


As Exalted We March

by Piratess_of_Tortuga



Series: Stories of the Two Wolves [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Eluvians, F/M, I tagged this as lavellan/solas to make finding it more easy :), Non-Inquisitor Lavellan, Orlesian Balls, Recognition, Smut, Tarasyl'an Te'las, Temple of Sacred Ashes, The Fade, The Winter Palace (Dragon Age), WIP, actually it's pretty shameless smut, although he's just Fen'Harel in this story, elven army, hence the tag nsfw, soulname, you know Elfquest - right?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-28 10:46:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 22,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7637134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piratess_of_Tortuga/pseuds/Piratess_of_Tortuga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Fen’Harel and his elven army would be the ultimate threat to all of Thedas instead of Corypheus? With his strenght returning, he is waiting eagerly for the opportunity to unlock his orb and tear down the Veil. But as it so often happens, he leaves one very important thing out of his calculations: a female hanal’ghilan known as Fen’lath Lavellan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The white wolf

**Author's Note:**

> So here is the another fic with Fen'Harel that I revealed to be in progress at the end of I'm as dread as you. I created a series called "Stories of the Two Wolves" under which every fic with Fen'Harel/Fen'lath Lavellan will be discovered from now on. :)

A new dawn arrived with the rising sun shining red like an Orlesian garden lantern. It was ironical, as its rays illuminated now the soil of the Emerald Graves which was stained by gore as a reminder of the night before. There were corpses everywhere, all bloodied and nearly torn apart.

 

But there was life too.

 

A pair of golden eyes glimmered amidst the shadows of the forest. They watched as a figure moved across the field: a great white wolf that searched the piles of the dead. The one who remained hidden in the forest, was a wolf too, a red-furred female to be exact, and she had been there for quite some time, observing the doings of the other. The white wolf sniffed the bodies and the splatter on the ground, but didn’t make any moves to eat or even taste any of the remains as any other wolf would have done by now. But Numin’gra knew that it wasn’t an ordinary wolf at all – she could sense it. It was much like herself, but not quite. And what the difference between herself and the white wolf was? She couldn’t quite put her finger – or paw – on it. The only things she was sure of at the moment were that the wolf was a male and, to her surprise, at least partly _elvhen_ \- but so was she.   

                      Numin’gra’s people were called the Hanal’ghilanis –  the Pathfinders. The first ones of her kind had been born a short time after the Veil was created and whole Elvhenan fell. Some of the surviving elvhen sought shelter in the woods, transformed into wolves, and, after a while, decided to remain in those forms. It made it possible for them to become mixed with real wolves and thus the first mixed-bloods were born. After a couple of generations had lived and died **,** it became clear that every hanal’ghilan was gifted with magic and had the grace of the elvhen in their appearance and movement. In the Fade, however, they looked more like wolves they partly were, and in need to hide themselves from unwanted onlookers and visitors, soulnames came to be. A soulname was something to protect the inner self of a hanal’ghilan, never allowing anyone to know their secret unless they wanted so, but it had also a meaning in deepening the ties of matrimony, the bonding, creating a strong spiritual link between the two lifemates **.** All in all, the only thing that changed visibly over the years was their height as they all were somewhat shorter than the original elvhen. After time passed, the Hanal’ghilanis moved out of their safe haven in the woods and some even decided to join Dalish clans. Numin’gra, known to most people only as Fen’lath, was one of them **.**  

                      Numin’gra’s grandmother, Deshanna Istimaethoriel, was the Keeper of Clan Lavellan, and she was given to her care as a child to be raised to become her First. She wasn’t exactly sure where her parents were at the moment, but last time she had heard from them, they had been travelling with another Dalish clan near Antiva. The Dalish didn’t harbor too many mages with them at a time, so for them, leaving her in the care of her grandmother had been for the best. Besides, with them knowing her soulname, they could meet in the Fade if they happened to be asleep at the same time. She wasn’t aware of having any brothers or sisters, but she was content with the way things were. She knew her family – which was more than some hanal’ghilans could say, she had a clan to live with, and she had a purpose. In addition to the position of the First, she was a scout like no other in Clan Lavellan – all thanks to the wolfblood in her veins. She was on a mission even now, but it seemed to have turned into a quest to satisfy personal curiosity rather than to find out what had happened, and that curiosity was for the great white wolf whose eyes were like silver of the two moons.

                                                                                                                       

The sun had already reached its highest point in the sky, but the red-furred female still remained hidden on the edge of the great oak forest. Numin’gra had found herself a cool secluded spot beside a lush bush and remained there while watching the stranger. Apparently there had been a battle between humans and elves, which she finded rather peculiar. Elves hadn’t had organized armies since, since... Since the fall of the Dales! How could they be raising troops now? Two golden eyes watched as the white wolf inspected every corpse lying on the field, but paid closer attention only to the elven ones.

_Who are you?_  

                      Suddenly the white wolf grew alert, raising its head and ears up, then turned, and dashed away **.** Numin’gra rose to her feet too, but before she could do anything else, she found herself surrounded by human soldiers with their swords pointing at her. She had been so enchanted by the stranger that she had forgotten to watch her surroundings.

_Fenedhis._

                      Numin’gra’s gaze wandered around while she searched for a way to espace, but the ring the soldiers had formed around her hiding place was too tight. She started to circle around nervously, scolding herself for letting herself to be taken by surprise. What did the soldiers want with a wolf anyway? Did they know who the white wolf was and thought straight away that she was here with him? Whatever the truth may be, she had to do something or they would kill her for sure and without any questions asked.

_What to do? What to..._

”Is this the one the Seeker told us about?” one of the soldiers standing around her asked suddenly, pointing at her with his finger.

”No”, another one replied, ”this one has no white fur.”

_So they **were** looking for him! _  

Numin’gra pricked up her ears as she listened to the soldiers’ conversation attentively.

”How do we know that it isn’t tricking us?” yet another soldier stated her opinion, ”we should take it to Inquisition’s custody.”

_Inquisition?_

”I agree”, the first soldier spoke again, ”it isn’t an ordinary wolf anyway. If it was, it would have attacked us straight away.”

”Their behaviour doesn’t come from a textbook, Gregor”, the second soldier, who seemed to be the group’s commander, snapped at him.

”What do we do, captain?” asked a woman who stood by him.        

There was a brief silent moment of anticipation – both from the soldiers’ and Numin’gra’s account.

”We should take the beast with us”, the captain finally decided, ”collar it.”

                      Two soldiers sheathed their weapons and took a couple of hesitant steps towards the red-furred wolf. One of them moved to hold her in place while the other one grabbed a rope from his belt to be tied around her neck. Numin’gra chose to surrender willingly as she didn’t wan’t to put on a fight she would propably lose. Besides, she was rather curious for what was this ”Inquisition” the soldiers had mentioned and what they knew about the strange white wolf. Ironically speaking, she was throwing herself to the wolves to gain knowledge she had come to gather for her clan – and, if fate was kind to her, she would get some questions of now more personal interests answered as well **.**

 

_Fen’Harel ar ghilani._

 

**Elvish translations for this chapter:**

_Hanal’ghilanis:_ ”the Pathfinders” ( _-is_ indicating the continuity of their bloodline)

_Fenedhis:_ crap

_Fen’Harel ar ghilani:_ Dread Wolf, guide me (a prayer for the Dread Wolf used by the Hanal’ghilanis)


	2. The Inquisition

The place was rather modest at first sight, just a small village with its wooden houses and palisade, but beyond that there was a mountain that reached to touch the sky. Two men of the Inquisition stood guard outside the doorway carved to its side, and when they saw a group of their own soldiers marching towards it with a wolf on a double leash, they started to open the way for them. The massive wooden doors covering it were so heavy, however, that they called for help, and as Numin’gra soon found out, four more guards joined their efforts from the inside. When the way was finally open and the leashes around her neck tightened again, urging her to move on, a grand hall of stone opened before her eyes. It was full of people, humans and dwarves alike, but at first sight there were no elves. Had humans and dwarves allied against elves to begin some kind of new Exalted March?

_Bah_ , Numin’gra scoffed to herself, _now that’s just absurd._

                      Most dwarves worshipped Paragons, not Andraste, and furthermore, _if_  there was to be an Exalted March, the Divine wouldn’t surely invite any non-humans to join that crusade – or at least Numin’gra found it extremely _hard_ to believe. What she saw now was something else, though she suspected that it somehow related to the Chantry as the base and numbers of this so-called ”Inquisition” were seemingly large but didn’t seem to relate to any particular empire or state. Numin’gra didn’t know much about the Chantry as their god wasn’t hers, but she knew that it had power over people in every human-inhabited country, particularly in the one called Orlais. And if she was in the hands of those people... How did the humans say it? Ah yes.

 

_Shit._  

 

Numerous onlookers stared at the soldiers who passed them with their uncommon prisoner, and Numin’gra observed them carefully. Each one looked rather fascinated with her presence. There weren’t any hateful, appalled, or other rather negative nuances in their eyes: just plain curiosity. Numin’gra still wasn’t sure what these people wanted with her, but as the group got nearer to a set of stairs leading to an upper level, she saw an armored woman marching impatiently towards them.

”Captain!” she called out to the leader of the soldiers    

_Well, perhaps I’m about to have at least some answers quite soon_ ¸ Numin’gra thought as the soldiers stopped leading her and the man who held the title of the captain stepped forth.

”Lady Cassandra”, he stated with a hint of pride in his voice, ”I think we have caught one of the agents of the elven army.”

                      Once again Numin’gra found herself completely to be baffled. Was there wax in her ears or had she just misheard the last words spoken?

_An army of **elves**? _ she reiterated for reassurance. _Had the elves attacked against other races?_

She found it very hard to believe and, finding herself a bit disoriented, forcefully directed her thoughts to a thing she did best: gathering knowledge. She had already taken note of the two different kind of banners that decorated the hall’s walls: a sun and another sun with an eye and a sword. Now she found yet another emblem like that on the armor of the dark-haired woman called lady Cassandra: a sun with an eye on its center **.** Noticing that, Numin’gra pricked up her ears to hear their conversation again as they had been felt locked from the moment she had heard the captain mention the elven army – and her timing to do so couldn’t have been less perfect.

”If that beast is an important part of their army, the White Wolf will want it back”, Cassandra said with determination in her voice as she glared at her, ”take it to Sister Nightingale’s quarters.”

 

The captain saluted his superior formally and, without a word **,** started to lead his group to a first floor corridor to the right. Numin’gra followed them willingly, eagerly waiting to hear what this ”Sister Nightingale” had to say.

 

The soldiers escorted their prisoner to a room at the end of the corridor. She had noted that there was a golden sun depicted on its oaken door, but the room’s interior was rather gloomy. There was only one red tapestry to adore the grey stone walls, depicting the same golden sun as the painted carving on the door. Infront of it was placed a massive wooden desk with a plain chair. A raven cawed in its gage which was placed next to window-sized hole that apparently led all the way to the outside and was meant for the raven to pass but also to keep fresh air flowing in. The cold floor was covered with a large, red carpet and there was a modest chandelier hanging from the roof. After quickly checking her surroundings, Numin’gra paid attention to the woman who was now sitting on the chair infront of the desk as if having emerged from the shadows. She was dressed in the shades of lilac and violet, but her hair was that of soft flame red **.** The group who had escorted Numin’gra to the room formed a square around her with two soldiers holding her in leash from both sides. The captain stepped forth once again and saluted the woman sitting behind the desk.   

”Sister Nightingale.”  

                      For a while it seemed that the woman was so deep in her thought that she hadn’t even noticed the arrival of the soldiers and their prisoner. When she finally lifted her gaze from the paper she seemed to have been reading, she greeted the captain after which the latter began to report the situation to her. After hearing the words ”elven army” Sister Nightingale immeadiately stood up, folded her hands behind her back, and walked to face the captain properly.

”Are you sure?” she asked, frowning.

Her voice was rather peculiar. It sounded like dropping pearls.

”Yes, my lady”, the captain confirmed, holding his posture, ”we found this wolf from the Emerald Graves near the site of the last battle.”

”And it didn’t come to your mind that it could be just an ordinary wolf?” the woman continued to question him.

”No offense, my lady, but it hasn’t tried to attack us or shown any signs of hostility as any normal wolf would have done. It has co-operated willingly.”

Sister Nightingale turned her head to gaze past the soldiers. Numin’gra gazed back, sat down, and relaxed.

”Untie it and leave us”, the woman ordered without looking away from the wolf, ”and send Lady Cassandra to me.”

”But my lady”, the captain protested, ”the wolf could...”

With those words he earned himself only a hollow icy glare.

”You told me yourself that it has done nothing hostile so far, so why would it start now?”  

”I’m sorry, my lady. We will leave, with your permission.”

                      As Sister Nightingale nodded her acceptance, every soldier saluted her and left the room except for the two who removed the ropes from around Numin’gra’s neck before they followed their comrades. And so, there she sat: in the middle of the floor, cocking her head questioningly towards the red-haired woman, and thankful. Sister Nightingale watched the door for a moment as if to be sure that everyone had left and there was no-one to spy on them. Then she turned her gaze back towards Numin’gra.

”They say you’re not a normal wolf”, she stated questioningly, ”is that true?”

                      To Numin’gra’s mind, the question was extremely naive. If she didn’t want to reveal herself and was ready to die to keep her secret, why would she admit anything? But, as the things were, she hadn’t come here to die but because she had no choice and she wanted to gain some answers. She let her tail lie on the floor, showing that she was relaxed, and stared at the woman before her adamantly. To a normal wolf, it would have been a challenge to stare someone like that, but Numin’gra did so to sign that she was listening attentively.

”I take that as a no”, the woman said after observing her behaviour, ”are you part of the elven army?”

_Either this shemlen has no need for circumlocution or her methods of interrigation are rather plain and direct. Well, saves me some time – I hope._

Numin’gra cocked her head questioningly, trying to look confused.

”You have co-operated so far, why start lying now?”

_*sigh*_

No success.

                      Apparently this ”Sister Nightingale” was some sort of a master in reading expressions and gestures but was rather sceptical about what she saw. Perhaps she was accustomed to have ”easy reading”, so to speak. Numin’gra wasn’t quite sure how to deal with her, but she had been honest so far as she had had no reason to do otherwise. She raised her head up, pricked up her ears, and made an argumentative bark. Sister Nightingale ignored her comment and steered the interrogation to another path.

”I have been told that your leader is the White Wolf, but he is rarely seen in his true elven form, and when he is, he has masked his face.”

_So who I saw was the **leader** of the elven army? _

                      Numin’gra felt how her stomach started to churn. She was sure that the white wolf wasn’t one of the hanal’ghilanis, so he had to be something else. While she was lost in her though, there was a knock on the door.

”Come in”, Sister Nightingale raised her voice a little but then lowered it again as she turned to the wolf, ” our soldiers have also reported that they have sometimes seen a nightmarish black wolf on the fields of battle.”

_A black **and** a white wolf? _

The door was starting to open as Sister Nightingale continued: ”You know of what do I speak, don’t you? A black wolf much bigger than any other with six red eyes.”

And in that very instant, Numin’gra froze.

 

_Fen’Harel_.

 

Taken over by a blind instinct, Numin’gra turned glanced towards door and seeing it was now wide open **,** dashed towards it. She was so fast that Sister Nightingale or even Cassandra who had just opened the door didn’t have any time to react. She ran towards the end of the open corridor as fast as she could and turned left towards the main doors. She avoided the bystanders in the hall, zigzagging between them like a bolt. It was a desperate attempt but she had to try. She couldn’t stay here, and for once it seemed that luck was on her side: the massive doors were _open_.

”It’s getting away”, Cassandra’s voice was echoing in the main hall, ”close the doors!”

 

But the red-furred wolf had already fixed her golden eyes on her way to freedom, and she didn’t hesitate to try to reach it.

 

Before the gatekeepers could react, Numin’gra darted past them like a stormwind. She was ready to continue her run towards the south, but as she soon found out, her task wouldn’t be an easy one: there was a whole company of soldiers marching towards the doors. As the slope down was steep from both sides, Numin’gra had no choice but to try and run past the soldiers. She made a quick decision, and tried to go around them from the right. Her attempt was quite successful to the point when she had already gotten past the whole confused company. One of the soldiers, however, gathered his wits and tried to stop her. Numin’gra didn’t notice the incoming stone in time and it hit her right to the back of her head. She yelped from pain and collapsed to the ground as if paralyzed. She struggled to keep her eyes open as she heard yelling from behind her. But she also heard something else: a howl so fearsome and mournful that it could freeze anyone who heard it.

 

_Coul it be...?_

Numin’gra felt her consciousness slipping, but her senses perked when she saw a black shadow moving towards her.

”It’s here!” someone yelled, ”the black wolf!”

_The wolf?_

Numin’gra’s golden eyes flew wide open and her eyesight became momentarily as sharp as that of an hawk. She saw a six-eyed pitchblack wolf that was at least three times bigger than her. It dashed towards the soldiers with its teeth bared and growling. The company’s commander gave an order of defense, but instead of attacking any of them, the wolf stopped just between them and Numin’gra. It fluffed its neckfur and snarled at the soldiers, urging them to back off.

”Don’t give in to fear! It’s just a wolf and you are soldiers of the Inquisition, defenders of justice!” the commander tried to rally his troops to no avail.

The soldiers hesitated at the sight of the beast which could very well be a nightmare come true. That was everything the black wolf needed, it seemed, as it turned immediately to Numin’gra and grabbed her by the neck as if she was just a cub moved to safety **-** her salvation.

 

As the beast sprinted down the path carrying Numin’gra with it, there was only thing in her mind before she finally gave in to the pain and everything went completely dark.

 

_Ma serannas._


	3. The council

The forest was lush and full of colourful birds. Those were things Numin’gra saw first after she woke up, but what she woke _to_ was one rather stubborn bee which kept buzzing near her head and was now trying to gain access to her ear. She jumped to her feet and run away from the insect which pestered her. However, she did so too hastily, lost her balance, and fell straight into the warm river that flowed nearby. All that was missing from the scene would have been a predator fish snapping her bottom **.** The incident served a purpose, however, as it made her realise two things: that she had a furious headache, and more importantly, that she had changed back to herself again. She was no longer Numin’gra the wolf but Fen’lath the elf instead. And there she sat: in the water, touching her hair and raising her right hand to watch her fingers in confusion. She hadn’t voluntarily changed back, so what had hap...? Fen’lath flinched and nearly fell backwards. She had to seek support from the bottom of the river with her hands, but the slippery rocks thwarted her attempts, and she took another unintentional dive into the warm water. When she managed to sit up again, she coughed and gasped for air before she hastily wiped her soaked red hair off her face and bowed her head in reverence.

”Fen’Harel, Tishan.”

                      Fen’lath didn’t dare to raise her head and look, but she knew he was there, _the Dread Wolf was there **,**_ and the mere though of it made shivers run down her spine.Unlike the Dalish who distasted the god of rebellion, the hanal’ghilanis revered him for freeing the elven people from under the yoke of the Evanuris. Though the whole Elvhenan was destroyed in the process, it had to be done. The world was different now and elves weren’t a dominant race anymore, but why should they be? The actions of the Evanuris showed that elves were no better than humans they so despised, and they could be blinded by their desire for power as easily **.** The hanal’ghilanis were used to living in the forest just like the Dalish and in fact, thanks to the wolf-blood in their veins, they _thrived_ there. But what would it be like if Elvhenan would rise again? Not as a vast dominant empire it had once been, but a bit smaller, like Orlais?

                      The overwhelming thrill that had caused Fen’lath’s mind to wanderpeaked again when she felt a wet nose against her own. Her heart raced wildly as she mustered her courage and finally raised her gaze to find herself staring straight into the eyes of the huge black wolf **.** It huffed and the warm air that flowed out from its nostrils made Fen’lath shudder. She felt uncertain about what she should do next though she knew one thing she definately should do.

_Thank him, you fool!_ she scolded herself and began to gather her wits again to keep calm.

She would never want to appear confused and weak infront of the Dread Wolf.   

”Ma melava ama”, she began tentatively, trying to steady her trembling voice, ”ma serannas, Tishan.”   

                      Fen’lath gulped when the wolf sniffed her. She was excited by the thought that she actually sat infront of the only elvhen god her people worshipped and revered, but she was also intrigued by the fact how it was even possible for him to be there at all. Perhaps he had slept in uthenera since the fall of Elvhenan and woken up recently to see the state of the modern world? The slavery and oppression of his kin in the human cities, the hypocrisy and false legends of the Dalish.... Fen’lath imagined that everything must have been quite a shock for him. Was that why he had raised up an army?

                      While the young hanal’ghilan got tangled in her own thoughts, she relaxed and didn’t even fully notice how the Dread Wolf examined her. She was brought back to reality when her head started to ache again. She grimaced while she raised her right hand and pressed it to the back of her head. Her eyesight started to blur, and the last thing she saw before losing her consciousness were the six eyes that started to glow blue.

 

***

 

”Is she alright?” a woman asked.

”I think she has suffered some kind of a blow to her head, but otherwise yes, she is alright”, another one said.

_That voice, so familiar..._

”Thank the All-Mother!”

 

 And that was all she managed to hear before darkness took her again **.**

 

***

 

The place was familiar. As Fen’lath opened her eyes, she saw hazy figures of aravels placed around an extinguished campfire. The sun had already risen. How long had she been asleep? She instinctively sat up and touched her head with from every possible angle. Her headache was gone and she felt no bump or wound on the spot where the stone had hit her.

_What...?_

Fen’lath’s confusion turned into a relieved smile when she saw a familiar face of the woman crouching beside her **.**

”Grandmother!”

                      Deshanna Istimaethoriel was a typical hanal’ghilan by build. Her skin was tanned from the sun, her eyes the same shade as those of Fen’lath’s, and though age had turned her hair nearly gray, she had no wrinkles on her face. The Keeper of Clan Lavellan was considerably older than any other members of her clan, but no-one knew that except for Fen’lath who now loosened the relieved embrace she had held her grandmother in for a while now.

”I have important news for you.”

”You should rest, da’len.”

”No”, Fen’lath shook her head, staring at her grandmother resolutely, ”it’s _very_ important.”

The Keeper considered her words for a while before she nodded her head in understanding.

”Come with me.”

                      Deshanna offered Fen’lath her hand, helped her to stand up, and led her to sit on a fallen tree.

”Now, tell me what’s wrong”, the older hanal’ghilan urged her.

”Everything is wrong, grandmother”, Fen’lath began to explain hastily, still feeling a bit fuzzy for sleeping too long, ”there’s an elven army on the march!”

The expression on the Keeper’s face turned serious as she lowered her gaze and furrowed. Fen’lath stared at her with anticipation.

”Is that what you learned in the Emerald Graves?”

”No”, she shook her head, ”it’s what I learned after I was captured by the Inquisition.”

                      While listening to Fen’lath’s story about what had happened to her during her scouting trip, Deshanna’s expressions varied from worried to solemn. The young hanal’ghilan told her about the White Wolf, the Inquisition, and what she had heard about the elven army which sadly wasn’t much, but what she said lastly mattered the most.

”They’re led by Fen’Harel.”

Hearing her words, the Keeper looked immensily surprised.

”The Dread Wolf is leading the army?” she repeated after checking that there was no unwanted listeners to hear her words.

Fen’lath nodded.

”Without him, I wouldn’t be here now. When the soldiers nearly caught me again, the Black Wolf came and rescued me. He took me to a place which I suspect was the Arbor Wilds. There, I lost my consciousness again, and woke up here”, she told her before changing the subject and expressing her opinion, ”there’s an ongoing war raging around us, grandmother, we _must_ hold council with the others.”

Deshanna nodded without hesitation.

”I agree with you, da’len.”

 

After sunset the campfire was lit again and five elves gathered to sit around it. The Keeper had summoned the clan’s three elders to discuss how the clan should react to recent events. The fift elf was Fen’lath who had sat with them often as she usually was the one to bring important news and she had the responsibility to share them with others – although in this case, she would have to make some omissions. As said, the hanal’ghilanis revered Fen’Harel while their Dalish brethren did not, and Clan Lavellan – even with Deshanna as their Keeper – wasn’t an exception in the matter.

”Are you sure about the elven army?” hahren Nolan questioned the young scout.

”Yes I am, hahren”, Fen’lath assured him, ”the shemlen of the Inquisition spoke specifically of that. They are led by someone called ’the White Wolf’.”

”’Wolf’?” the clan’s craftmaster, Andoral, repeated, ”is it Fen’Harel’s work, then?”

                      Fen’lath resisted the urge to scold the man for his prejudices, especially because what he suspected was _true_.

”No”, she answered instead, ”I don’t think so. The Inquisition calls their leader such because he shows himself in the form of a white wolf.”

_And that of the black one_ , she added silently.

”’Himself’?” Nolan observed her choice of words, ”have you seen him, then?”

”Yes”, Fen’lath admitted, ”I saw a white male wolf searching the battlefield before I was caught by the soldiers.”

”So he’s a shapechanger”, Deshanna stated suddenly, supporting her words by making an omission of her own, ”we should find out who he really is.”

”How do you propose we do that, Keeper?” the Halla Keeper, Sanatriel, inquired with her soft gentle voice.

Deshanna looked at her pensively for a while before turning to Fen’lath who immediately knew that her grandmother had a plan already **–** she always had.

”I’m afraid that I need your help again, da’len.”

                      The members of the council sat quietly around the campfire while the Keeper explained her plan to them **.** It turned out that she had received a message from Halamshiral. The empress was going to host a grand ball at the Winter Palace to which everyone who was anyone in Orlais would be invited to. No more than other members of her clan, Fen’lath wasn’t ”anyone” when it came to the opinion of the Orlesian nobility, but Deshanna told her that she could get inside the palace as a servant. Her inside contact, Briala, could make that happen as she was an advisor to Her Imperial Highness as well as an old lover, and she took care of the elves residing at the palace. Deshanna’s opinion was that the elven army would surely try to infiltrate a spy to the ball. With Briala’s help, Fen’lath could track any possible spies down and hopefully uncover useful information concerning the elven army. The young hanal’ghilan had no objections to the mission ahead of her. If there was any chance she could meet Fen’Harel again... She would _definately_ seize the opportunity.

 

**Elvish translations for this chapter:**

_Ma melava ama:_ You saved me


	4. The Winter Palace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any possible spelling mistakes in this chapter in advance. I'm a slow reader and eight hours at work early in the morning don't make it any better. :D I hope you enjoy reading the chapter nonetheless. :)

Fen’lath left the camp with the first rays of the sun lighting her way, and after taking enough distance, she transformed into a wolf to make haste towards the city of Halamshiral. She sometimes stopped to drink or to savour a rabbit or a nug as a meal, but aside from that, she continued tirelessly ever onwards **.** She had a relatively long journey ahead of her, and she had to be at the Winter Palace in time. So the red wolf ran, determined to rest properly only just before arriving to her destination so that she would be at her best at the ball.

 

And that was how the most intriguing mission the young hanal’ghilan had had so far in her life began.

 

***

 

Before reaching the city, the red wolf slowed down to assume her elven form. Fen’lath was dressed in modest linen clothes instead of her Dalish armor so that she woudn’t draw any unwanted attention from the shemlen when she reached the palace. After walking through the mostly elven inhabited city, she saw the gates of the Winter Palace where there were no guards to receive her but a red-haired elven woman instead. Her skin was as tanned as Deshanna’s, and she wore an elegant green dress.

”Ah, you must be our newest servant **:** mademoiselle Lavellan”, she greeted her in a manner that told Fen’lath that they were surely listened in.

”Yes I am”, she replied, playing along, ”and you must be the representative I was told to seek out.”

”Indeed I am. My name is Briala and I take care of Her Imperial Highness’ servants. Please, follow me.”

                      The advisor turned to walk towards the palace, and Fen’lath kept in pace with her by her left side.

”The party will start in the evening”, the advisor informed her, ”the servants are expected to serve drinks and food to the guests. Some nobles may try to flirt with you, but when you work here, you _must_ keep your stance professional.”

From the corner of her eye, Fen’lath saw how a guard stared at them suspiciously.

”Of course”, she said while keeping her face expressionless and directed onwards.

”The palace will provide you with a meal and one silver coin per day as a compensation for your services. But first, we should get you a dress from the servants’ quarters. I’ll accompany you there so you won’t get lost on the way.”

                      After walking through a number of elaborate halls and corridors, Fen’lath found herself from a more modest part of the palace. The servants’ quarters were nothing compared to the rest of the place when it came to glamour, but there were no guards, and Briala seemed to relax a bit which lead Fen’lath to the conclusion that these rooms were her own little domain. The advisor turned around and smiled at the younger elf in a strange way that was friendly but a bit cold at the same time. Was she bitter about something?

”Welcome to my realm, young hunter”, she stated rather proudly, ”the empress may rule Orlais, but this is the one part where _elves_ make the rules in.”

”Thanks for receiving me”, Fen’lath thanked her and noticed that other elves started to gather around them.

”Everything is ready for the evening, madame”, one brown-haired young man reported to the advisor before Fen’lath could continue their conversation any further.

”Excellent, Feron”, Briala praised him, ”proceed with the plan as intended. If Gaspard plans something, we shall know it before he reaches Celene.”

With that said, she turned back to Fen’lath.

”Come, let’s find you a proper piece of clothing.”

 

By the time the evening folded Orlais in its warm embrace, nobles started to arrive to the Winter Palace. Fen’lath stood in the Vestibule serving drinks with her head slightly bowed to show reverence to her ”betters”. She had received a grey dress to wear during the festivities, and her long red hair was weaved into delicate braids. Before leaving the servant’s quarters she had gotten some advices from Briala: don’t act arrogantly or you’ll get into trouble, always conform to the nobles’ desires unless they are inappropriate, and always, _always_ keep your eyes and ears open.

                      Most of the guests proceeded directly into the Ballroom without even bothering to notice the young elf who held the serving tray. However, some of them chose to remain in the Vestibule and have refreshing drinks before joining the others. They were mostly shemlen, but amongst them there was a small retinue of dwarves which made Fen’lath wonder why elves weren’t good enough to be invited to an event where dwarves were welcomed to. Because of the lyrium trade?

_Ah, just that_ ¸ Fen’lath noted and chose to carry on with her mission, _how stupid of me._

                      After a while a group of seven entered the Winter Palace with a man who, according to Briala, was the empress’ cousin, but there were also two more people whom Fen’lath recognized **:** Cassandra and Sister Nightingale. So _this_ was the retinue of the Inquisition: the mentioned two, a brown-haired man on the lead with Gaspard, a curly-haired man, a dark-haired woman, a dwarf... and by the madness of Andruil, _a qunari_! Fen’lath had never seen a qunari from this close. This one was a very large fellow with an eyepatch, undoubtedly capable in fight, and...

_Fenedhis!_

Fen’lath pressed her gaze quickly down when she saw the qunari glance at her with a suspicious glare in his remaining eye. Perhaps she should be a a bit more careful from now on. 

 

By the time the music stopped and the empress arrived to the Ballroom to greet her guests, the Vestibule was empty aside from the few guards. Fen’lath was about to return to the servant’s quarters when she saw one of Briala’s people walking towards her.

”Feros needs your help in the Guest Garden”, she informed her, ”I’ll take care of the drinks here when the guests return.”

”Thank you”, Fen’lath said when she handed over the tray to the other elf and started to make way to the pointed destination.

                      While walking through a room in which the entrance to the garden was situated **,** Fen’lath saw the qunari again. He eyed her as suspiciously as before which gave her the chills. Something was a bit off in that man, but she couldn’t tell what it was yet. And if he was to cause her trouble in some manner, she would cross that bridge when she came to it: there were more pressing matters for her to attend to.

 

There weren’t many people in the Guest Garden. One of them was the brown-haired man of the Inquisition, announced as the Inquisitor at court, and he was surrounded by three identically dressed ladies. Fen’lath passed them as she walked to Feros who was standing near the silent alcove next to the wall of the Guest Wing.

”I was told that you needed help”, she made her arrival known to Briala’s agent.

”Indeed”, he said and turned to lead her back inside, ”follow me.”

                      Fen’lath had an unpleasant suspicion that the qunari had watched her again from the moment she had entered the Guest Wing, but she chose to say nothing about it, and by the time Feros had lead her to a small secluded balcony, her thoughts were already focused completely elsewhere.

”Any news?” she inquired, anxious to hear what the agent had to say.

”We have seen a suspicious character moving around and posing as a servant”, he informed her, ”he certainly isn’t one of us.”

Fen’lath furrowed.

_So he has sent someone here, or has he come here himself? But I have no scent..._

”What does he look like?” she tried to get a better picture of the man in question.

”He is an elderly fellow with grey hair. I think he is a city elf as he has no tattoos.”

Silent cogs started to rotate in Fen’lath’s mind.

”Can you tell me something else about him? Has he some specific characteristics? His height, for example?”

”No”, Feros shook his head to her disappointment, ”he looked like a typical elven man in every aspect.”

Fen’lath let out a sigh.

”So it’s not him”, she said quietly to herself.

”Pardon?”

”Nothing. Could you tell me where to start?”

”You should head to the Ballroom. He was seen there when the empress was greeting her guests.”

Fen’lath smiled to the agent before she turned to take her leave **.**

”Ma serannas, Feros.”


	5. It’s up to me with whom I dance

The Ballroom was quite full. No one was on the dance floor at the moment though the band hadn’t stopped playing. As the notes of an elegant Orlesian song weaved their way between the nobles, so did Fen’lath Lavellan. She stayed alert for anything suspicious or out of place, but so far she had found nothing **.** She was already wondering whether she should proceed to another room when someone grabbed her shoulder. Fen’lath got startled.

_Shit_! she cursed to herself after she turned around and realised that the someone was a human – Sister Nightingale, to be exact.

Fen’lath hadn’t shown her elven form when she had briefly been the Inquisition’s captive, so all in all, she should be alright with the situation, right?

”Can I help you, my lady?” she asked politely, keeping her stance calm.

”I would like to ask you some questions. Would you come with me, please?” Sister Nightingale stated her business.

”Questions? What for?”

”Lets just say that I have been told it could be useful. It won’t take long, I promise.”

_What the...  For the love of the All-Mother, **the qunari**! _

”I’m sorry, but I have duties to attend to and I don’t want my superiors to punish me for not fulfilling them”, she protested.

”I’m afraid that I’m going to have to insist”, Sister Nightingale told her more firmly.

While the young hanal’ghilan was desperately trying to figure out how to evade the situation, a stranger appeared to the scene.

”Ah, there you are, darling”, his voice was velvety and deep, ”I was already a bit concerned. Shall we dance?”

The direct question left Fen’lath bewildered and gave her no time to wonder what was happening so she nodded, allowing the stranger to lead her to the dance floor and leaving the Inquisition’s spymaster and her questions behind them.

 

A crowd gathered around the palace’s grand dance floor, whispering and desperate to get a mere peek of the pair who now twirled there. Sister Nightingale, however, was nowhere to be seen anymore, but Fen’lath would concern herself with that matter later if needed to because for now her interests were focused completely elsewhere. Her eyes sparkled like a couple of green stars, and her skin tingled with anticipation. The man who had captured her to a dance was elven, no doubt of that, though he had hidden his face and ears beneath a wolfmask. He was noticeably taller that any other elven men, taller than those of hanal’ghilanis even **.** His form was gracefully slender yet muscular, and his hair... Imposing, long, darkbrown dreadlocks adorned with rings and beads, and there was also a part of a wolf’s skull on the forehead. He wore a long darkgreen coat with widening sleeves and darkbrown embroidery of leaves on it, tightened around his waist with an ochre sash. Otherwise his clothing was black: skin-tight breeches, high foot wrappings, and a loose shirt with a deep v-neck and a wolf’s jawbone necklace on the front **.** But what drew the young hanal’ghilan’s attention over all other observations was the scent that was already familiar to her.

 

_Fen’Harel._

As no one made any move to disrupt the pair’s dancing, they continued to sweep over the dance floor - the god of rebellion in all his glory and an elven maiden in her modest grey dress. Fen’lath hadn’t danced much, but she had seen many shemlen do so, so she knew the basics well enough. Fen’Harel held her tightly by the waist and gently by the hand while gazing her intensely through the mask with his golden eyes. Fen’lath shivered in his arms.

”Tishan”, she said gingerly, but found no words to continue her sentence with.

”Yes, da’sa?” Fen’Harel encouraged her to speak in elven.

_His voice..._

”I am not worthy of this”, she managed to say to him.

”Why not?” he asked while leading her across the floor as if she was the empress instead of Celene.

”You know why.”

”It’s up to me with whom I want to dance and no one else.” 

Fen’lath felt how her cheeks burned and she started to blush, not knowing whether to smile or not.

”Thank you for saving me, again.”

”I was intrigued”, Fen’Harel hummed, ”why would a young maiden like you spy on me in the forest?”

”Ir abelas, Tishan”, Fen’lath apologized to him, ”I didn’t know it was you.”

”But something made you stay there, it seemed that you knew that I wasn’t who I appeared to be”, he smirked and brought his lips near to her left ear, ”intrigue, curiosity... Which one was it?”

His voice made her cheeks blush even more intensely and an unresistable heat was litten in her core. Her reaction was caused by an undescripable intrigue that overwhelmed her, but also by something else – something much more ancient and yet unknown to her.

”Curiosity”, she answered barely.

”For what, da’sa?” the Wolf’s breath was now hot against her skin.

The ever intensing heat drew a gasp out of the young hanal’ghilan.

”For you.”

                      The music stopped, and Fen’Harel drew Fen’lath against himself while the crowd started clap their hands. Ignoring their audience, he brought his face near to hers, making her heart pound wildly while he brushed his lips lightly to hers.

”Ma fen’ir’ina’lan’ehn”, he endeared her, sounding bewitched, and then pressed his lips warmly to hers.

Fen’lath closed her eyes. She felt as if she was in a dream: first the god of rebellion had taken her to a dance, and now he was kissing her. Was this even real?

”Stop this madness!” she suddenly heard a voice which she identified as that of Cassandra’s, ”she is a spy of the elven army!”

Something in Fen’Harel’s presence made Fen’lath calm because she chose to ignore the shout and let him take their kiss all the way to its gentle end. While the sounds of unsheathing weapons and clanking of armor surrounded the dance floor in an echo, the Dread Wolf glanced at her and smirked wickedly. Then he stepped around her, shielding her with his body.

”You are wrong to accuse her, Seeker Pentaghast”, he adressed the Inquisition’s presentative in common tongue, ”she isn’t involved in the actions of my soldiers.”

Cassandra went quiet for a moment, perplexed, and glanced at the Inquisitor who stood beside her before turning to Fen’Harel again **.**

”’ _Your_ soldiers’?” she repeated for affirmation.

”Oh yes”, Fen’Harel smiled wolfishly, ”for I am the leader of the elven army, I am the one your Inquisition calls the White Wolf, and _I_ am Fen’Harel.”

                      The whole Ballroom gasped and both the empress and the Inquisitor gave orders to their troops to seize the intruders. Fen’Harel grabbed Fen’lath tightly by the waist and held her close. The young hanal’ghilan had no idea what he was doing, but whatever it was, she was content that it would help them to avoid being captured. Besides, why would have the god of rebellion come to a palace full of enemies if he hadn’t had a plan to escape? Or was he just that arrogant? Maybe both.

                      Before anyone managed to move towards the dance floor, Fen’Harel created a barrier around himself and Fen’lath, pressed his fingertips to his forehead and released a mindblast more powerful than Fen’lath or anyone else had ever seen. It caused the doors to fly open and people outside the barrier lose their balance. Then the god of rebellion, still holding the young hanal’ghilan tightly against himself, fade-stepped and ran over the floor and people who still lied on it all the way to the front door. When he stopped to blast it open, Fen’lath felt her stomach lurch. The fade-step had been so immense in speed that she felt a bit disoriented. Suddenly Fen’Harel grabbed her with both his hands, lifted her to his right shoulder, and sprinted to the right. Fen’lath hang helplessly on his shoulder while the only two things she could clearly see were the palace’s courtyard and the back of Fen’Harel. She heard the opening of a wooden door and then that of an iron latch. Fen’Harel stopped for a moment.

”Fen’Harel enansal”, he said and a bright glow emanated from infront of him.

After that, he stepped forward again, and before the guards who had started to pursue them after recovering from the mindblast, the light dimmed, and the two elves were swallowed into nothingness.


	6. Recognition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this chapter is NSFW. You have been warned. :D

_***_

 

_Was that an Eluvian?_

_***_

Fen’lath tried to look around as much as she possible while still hanging on Fen’Harel’s shoulder. Should she ask him to put her down so that she could see more?

_By Ghilan’nain’s hallas, no!_

Fen’lath wouldn’t dare to question where the god of rebellion was taking her. She couldn’t see his face, but she could swear that he was _smirking_ while he held her with his other hand on her ass. Well, perhaps he had earned his nickname ”the Trickster”, for good reasons – and to be honest, Fen’lath didn’t mind. She was beginning to feel confused, though: should she focus her attention to the elvhen who was carrying her, or rather to the odd enviroment he had brought her to? The latter would be every elf’s dream and she _should_ take great interest in it: the mirror, the colours... Not that she wasn’t excited and all, it was just that... There was something she knew and yet didn’t, a strange compulsion that made her focus to him and _only_ to him. It felt like magic, but she wasn’t sure whether it was his - or something more.  

                      By the time Fen’Harel had silently carried his ”catch” to the next Eluvian and prepared to step through it, all kinds of thoughts had passed through Fen’lath’s restless mind. She hadn’t paid any attention to the stony ground they had crossed nor the stairs that soared high to the sky. But the brushing of long dreadlocks against her dress and skin, the form of Fen’Harel’s body... Those things she had cherished. Fen’lath doubted, however, that her grandmother wouldn’t be interested in stories she had to tell about how handsome the god of rebellion was. Would she ever even see her grandmother and clan again? Would she...? But Fen’Harel...

 

_What have I gotten myself into_?

 

After another Eluvian dimmed behind the two elves, Fen’Harel pressed down a lever on the wall, opening momentarily a hidden door, and slipped into a narrow passage with stairs in it.

_Where is he taking me?_ Fen’lath wondered while waving up and down as the Dread Wolf ascended the long stairs which were made of white stone.

She raised her gaze a bit to see the walls which were made of the same material.

_So pure..._

Fen’Harel had conjured up a glorious wisp to provide them with light amidst the darkness. But had there been light or not, Fen’lath found it strange that they hadn’t seen any other elves on their way here. If there had been an agent of Fen’Harel among the palace’s elves then why hadn’t he escaped the same way they did, or had there been an agent at all? The young scout’s mind was filled with questions. She felt curious, intrigued, uncertain, and... _lasvicious._ What the closeness of Fen’Harel had made her feel at the Winter Palace’s, she realised, hadn’t faded away. Perhaps she should feel a bit ashamed for it, but alas, she couldn’t help herself no matter how much she tried. She hadn’t seen Fen’Harel’s face due to his mask, but he was still elegant, handsome, and feral at the same. And his scent... Fen’lath inhaled deeply the scent of elfroot and fresh grass of his coat.

_Oh, that scent..._

If Fen’Harel didn’t reach his destination soon enough, _she_ would surely go mad.  

                      After the passage ended, Fen’Harel crossed a strangely luminous floor on which lied a countless amount of books. Apparently the room was a study – _his_ study. Was he a scholar, then? No one had stories of the Dread Wolf’s personality or interests – he could be anything. Of one thing, though, Fen’lath was quite sure: he was definitely _confident_. So far he had rescued her from the base of the Inquisition, captured her into a dance, kissed her, rescued her again, and now he was carrying her on his shoulder while grasping her ass shamelessly. Fen’lath blushed when she felt how her folds turned slick while just thinking about him.

_What a fool you are, girl,_ she scolded herself, _to become so infatuated with a **god**? Calm yourself or you’ll wet his shoulder as well! _

And while the young hanal’ghilan continued to accuse herself of numerous amorous crimes, the ever silent god of rebellion activated yet another Eluvian at the end of the room and stepped through.

 

***

 

A sudden brilliant sunshine awakened Fen’lath from her thoughts. She felt how Fen’Harel started to lower her down, grabbed her properly, and set her down right infront of him. Two forest green eyes were full of wonder when they met the golden ones. For a while, the two elves just stood there, staring at each other like there was nothing in the world but them. Fen’lath encouraged herself to smile, though tentatively.

”Tishan...” she was about to say something, but Fen’Harel stopped her by pressing a finger on her pale lips.

After that, he lowered his head a bit and reached to open the ribbons that held up his mask, letting it drop to the ground. When he finally raised his head to gaze down at Fen’lath again, she felt as if her heart had just melted. Fen’Harel’s face looked young despite all his years, its lines were perfect as if made by a skilled sculptor, strong chin, slightly tilted eyes...

_Handsome._

                      Guessing what Fen’lath was thinking, the Dread Wolf grinned wickedly.

”You’re a very peculiar woman, da’sa”, he spoke in elven again, ”you let me carry you without even a hint of complaint heard, and now you stare at me with shameless infatuation instead of fear like any other Dalish would.”

Fen’lath blushed and lowered her head. If she hadn’t been ashamed before, _now_ she was that and more.

”But I’m not...” she began, but her words quickly trailed off.

Should she tell him the truth? When the young scout remained quiet, Fen’Harel raised her chin with his right hand so that their eyes met again.

”What, da’sa?” he asked her, obviously intrigued, ”what are you not?”

Perhaps he was a scholar after all.

                      Fen’lath felt herself utterly stupid. She wasn’t capable of answering the Dread Wolf’s question as she was frozen by the intensity of his gaze. What was wrong with her? Was it that he was a god of her people, or was she just acting like a teenager? Had she _really_ developed a crush on him, or could this be a re...?

_Oh, gods... You gotta be kidding me!_

When he received no answer from her, Fen’Harel brought his face closer to Fen’lath’s.

”Indulge me, ma fen’ir’ina’lan’ehn”, he teased her with his words and started to circle around her, ”does my breath feel hot on your skin? Does my touch make you tremble?”

When he stopped, he pressed his hand on her back and had his answer when she indeed trembled.

”I wonder”, the Dread Wolf continued, placing his hands now gently on her hips and sliding them slowly upwards, ”does my touch make you feel something else as well?”

Before his hands reached Fen’lath’s breasts, he folded his arms around her just beneath them. She gasped from his touch, feeling him press himself against her back. He obviously had a knack for arrogant mindplay, and she was already like wax in his arms with the heat in her core burning her fervently. Fen’Harel brought his lips near her left ear, though he stayed back enough so that she was unable to get even a glimpse of him without turning her head no matter how she tried.

”You know my name, da’sa”, he whispered to her, ”why don’t you tell me yours?”

The young hanal’ghilan gulped and closed her eyes.

”Fen’lath.”

Fen’Harel’s smile was so wide that she could feel his cheek touching her own.

”Ma serannas, ma da’fen.”

 

Neither of the elves had said a word for a while. Fen’lath didn’t dare to say anything, and Fen’Harel still held her tightly against himself. Her heart pounded wildly under his arms. When she noticed that the situation had an affect on Fen’Harel as well, telling from one specific hard part pressing against her ass, she forcefully fought back a gasp. She would say the hanal’ghilanis’ prayer for the Dread Wolf if he hadn’t been the very cause of her... _distress_. Two delicate hands rose and descended on the thighs of the god of rebellion. Fen’lath heard him breath deeply behind her when she squeezed them lightly.

_Gods, what are you doing?_ she scolded herself once again, _he’s Fen’Harel, a god, an elvhen! Even if this truly is to be a joining of souls, he is not a hanal’ghilan! It should be impossible!_

Fen’lath’s eyes widened when she felt a pair of hands moving along her body in turn, grabbing her breasts slowly yet _very_ eagerly.

”Tishan, I’m not worthy of this **”,** she grasped her last straw though she didn’t want the moment to come to an untimely end.  

”Don’t you remember, ma fen’ir’ina’lan’ehn”, Fen’Harel whispered as he leaned in closer to her, brushing her hair aside from her neck, ”that it is up to me and _only_ me with whom I dance or not.”

                     

And after that, the Dread Wolf said no more and pressed his lips to the revealed crook of Fen’lath’s neck.

 

It felt as if a lightning had just struck Fen’lath and coursed through her from the point Fen’Harel sucked on her skin to her very core. She couldn’t help herself when a moan escaped her, and she started to rub herself against him while he squeezed her breasts. It encouraged Fen’Harel to kiss her neck more furiously, causing it to bruise under the touch of his demanding lips **.** Right then, Fen’lath felt another lightninglike pulse surging through her, and she knew that it wasn’t just a natural reaction: Fen’Harel was using his magic to please her. When yet another pulse, more intense and bold than the one before, made Fen’lath’s body tremble, she instinctively released a spell. As green swirls crept up Fen’Harel’s form, he let go of her neck to gaze down at them.

”Now, now, ma da’fen”, he calmed her with a whisper, ”you’ll set us both on fire if you get scared so easily.”

”I’m not scared”, Fen’lath assured him, ”you know that, Tishan.”

Fen’Harel chuckeled beside her ear.

”Forgive me my incorrect choice of words then”, he said while releasing her breasts from his grasp, letting his hands slide slowly down her body, ”I should have guessed that things are different now – perhaps _surprised_ would be a more accurate description?”

”What do you mean, Tishan?”

”When our empire still flourished, magic was everywhere”, Fen’Harel hummed while he raised his right hand.

If Fen’lath looked closely, she could distinguish a long ethereal claw at the tip of his index finger.

”It wouldn’t have been strange to pleasure someone without making any physical contact at all”, the Dread Wolf continued as he started to strech the cords on the front of her dress with his magical claw, ”but you...”

He cut the lowest cord loose and then another.

”You I want to touch, da’sa”, he cut the rest of the cords, letting the grey dress Fen’lath was wearing drop just below her shoulders and nearly exposing her breasts to his gaze, ”to feel your skin against mine.”

Two curious hand grabbed the collar of Fen’lath’s dress and started to slide it down.

”I want to explore you as if you were a map to unknown lands”, the Dread Wolf slided his hand carefully over her now bare breasts, ”every valley and every hill...”

Fen’lath sighed and started to shiver.

”Fen’Harel ar ghilani”, the whispered words escaped her lips when she closed her eyes, finally surrendering to the desire that had been unraveling within her like a ball of silken yarn.

Though he surely heard her words, the god of rebellion determinately continued his measured moves and words to their intended end.  

”...every plain”, he said when his hands traveled gently over her stomach, ”and every cave.”       

                      Suddenly Fen’Harel’s hand surged beneath Fen’lath’s dress without a warning and attacked her sensitive folds with his nimble fingers. Her eyes went wide, and she could do nothing but stare into the clear blue sky. Fen’Harel lifted her left leg with his arm while artfully working within her folds with the fingers of his other hand. Fen’lath felt dizzy from the heat that had now taken a complete hold over her.

_Fen’Harel guide me_ , she started to recite the hanal’ghilanis’ prayer, _shield me from the wickedness of others._

Fen’Harel nibbed her ear and breathed heavily against her skin.

”We both are wolves in heat, ma fen’ir’ina’lan’ehn”, he whispered to her, ”in need of release.”

_Protect me from the corruption in the hearts of the cruel._

Fen’Harel’s fingers still moved at the same pace within her as before, but now he had also moved his thumb on her clit to brush it at the same time.

Fen’lath’s breathing turned deep with the nearing of her orgasm. She gulped and closed her eyes, trying to finish her prayer.

_Don’t let me be discovered by the unknowing, and..._

_*Ah!*_

 

A magical pulse suddenly sent electric tingling to Fen’lath’s clit. Fen’Harel pressed his lips to her neck as he teased her with another pulse. She opened her eyes again, her mouth agape as if air itself had disappeared from around them. Fen’Harel quickened his moves, and Fen’lath felt that she could faint when a warm sensation exploded in her core, starting to course through her body like waves. She couldn’t help but yell aloud while Fen’Harel ushered her all the way to the end of her orgasm. She was spent and leaned against him to rest her head on his chest. He lowered her left leg back to the ground again when he removed his hand from her slicky folds and raised it to his lips. Fen’lath’s chest heaved rapidly while she turned her head towards Fen’Harel who stared back at her wickedly while licking his fingers.

**”** Are you satisfied, ma haurasha?” he asked her.

”No”, she managed to answer him, panting.

**”** Are you truly so insatiable?” Fen’Harel smirked.

_I am,_ several answers came to Fen’lath’s mind, _because I want you, because need you...  friend of my body and soul._

Her right hand started to wander behind her back, reaching for Fen’Harel’s rock-hard member.

**”** Ar ma’isala .”

He turned her around so that her grip slipped off and she was staring at him. He leaned in and brushed her lips delicately with his fingers. Fen’lath’s forest green eyes gleamed with lust and affection.

”Tishan”, her whisper faded away when he removed his fingers from her lips and replaced them briefly with his own.

”No need to be so formal, da’sa”, he told her, still brushing her lips with his own, ”to you, I’m just Fen’Harel.”

                      With that said, all the delicacy and gentle words were gone. The two elves’ lips crushed together with raw passion. Fen’lath reached desperately for the sash which held Fen’Harel’s coat together. When she got it loose, he let the rest drop down to the ground himself. Then he reached for the remnants of her dress and tore them down to the last piece. When Fen’Harel disengaged himself from the kiss, Fen’lath immediately seized the opportunity, grabbed the hem of his shirt, and drew it over his head. Long dreadlocks fell heavily on the Dread Wolf’s muscular chest **.** Fen’lath could have stared at the sight as long as he did her, but she only glanced up at him instead, licked her lips meaningfully, and started to lower herself while leaving a frosty trail on his skin with her fingertips. When she got on her knees, she started to unlace his tight breeches and after lowering them carefully, released his member.

_Gods!_ she thought in all of the word’s irony.

                      Whether it was a pure-blooded elvhen thing or just Fen’Harel’s personal trait, his member was unlike those few Fen’lath had laid her eyes on: it was long _and_  thick. Would it even fit within her? Pushing those thoughts aside, she grabbed the Dread Wolf’s cock from the hilt and took its tip into her mouth. Fen’Harel laid his hands on her shoulders, sighed, and leaned his head backwards. Fen’lath started to move her hand and mouth so that they met in the middle of his member. She occasionally let her tongue snake along it only to take it firmly between her lips again. Her moves became even more determinate when she heard Fen’Harel gasping for breath, but unlike he had done to her, she didn’t finish him. Fen’lath knew that, in order to give them both redemption from their primal obsession for the time being, she had to give herself fully to the god of rebellion, and it wouldn’t be achieved by merely pleasuring him with her mouth.

 

Perhaps the Trickster had started their game, but now that the young hanal’ghilan had managed to hold her thoughts together, she wanted to exel in part of being his counterplayer.

 

Fen’lath started to open the cords that held Fen’Harel’s footwrappings together. She knew that he observed her every move while she did so. When both of the cords were loose, she began to unravel his wrappings, savouring every bit of revealed skin with her eyes. When she reached for the waist of his breeches to pull them down, she saw him smiling wickedly above her. Fen’Harel’s golden eyes gleamed with obvious impatience when he got rid of the last piece of clothing he had left. Fen’lath started climb up his body like it had been a svelte tree, and when she was high enough, he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up. She wound her arms around his neck and her long legs around his waist.

**”** Fen’Harel”, she gasped when she felt the tip of his member on her slit while staring into his feral eyes.

”Yes, da’sa?” he asked her calmly though he was verging his self-control as surely as she was.

”Do you accept me?”

”Why do you ask?” Fen’Harel hummed, amused. 

_Don’t tell him about the recognition, don’t tell him about the recognition..._

”If we are to join our bodies together”, the young hanal’ghilan came up with a hasty explanation, ”I would be ashamed if I wouldn’t be up to your liking such as I am.”

This time the Dread Wolf gave a short laugh.

”Oh, ma fen’Vana, you just don’t believe me, do you?””, he said while pushing the tip of his member inside her **,** ”then allow me to show you.”

                      Fen’lath held Fen’Harel even more tightly by the neck when he pushed his whole lenght inside her with one passionate thrust. She relaxed her legs a little bit so that she would bounce in pace with him whereas he widened his standing position so that he could swing her up and down more intensely **.** Her folds ached from the size of his member, but after a while every deep thrust he made started to feel like ecstasy. Suddenly the Dread Wolf pressed Fen’lath against a crumbling wall and the touch of the cold stone made her gasp **.** His golden eyes pierced her like his member did again and again with every slow and deep thrust. Fen’lath clung to his neck as if her life depended on it though she was squeezed tightly between him and the wall. He kissed the crook of her neck, making her moan from the lightninglike sensation it sent to her core. After a couple of slow thrusts Fen’Harel finally groaned himself and quickened his pace considerably, and when they both panted, their sweaty bodies brushing against each other, he allowed himself to be released. Fen’lath felt how his warm seed spilled into her and started to run down her legs like white cords **.** And when he still held her, catching his breath, he managed a grin.

”Among all the wild beauty in this world, you are a marvel, ma da’fen”, he whispered her ardently, ”you emanate magic more incredible than anything I have ever seen, so strange and inviting...”

_I know, but it isn’t me, it’s... Well **,** technically it **is** me, but..._

Fen’lath was at a loss of words for a moment, and when she was finally about to answer him, she felt his left hand snaking along her skin and grabbing her by the ass. Her forest green eyes went wide in question.

”You prayed me to guide you”, Fen’Harel spoke again, backing away from the wall, ”so let me.”

 

And when the Dread Wolf slipped his still hard member out of Fen’lath and lowered her gently to the soft green grass, she started to undestand that she really had had absolutely _no_ idea what she had gotten herself into.

 

**Elvish translations for this chapter:**

_Ar ma’isala:_ I need you


	7. Pieces of history

Water rushed down the nearby cliffs into the mist below, cleaving the silence with its distant roar. A delicate hand wondered out from beneath a silky blanket, and reached seachingly backwards.

_Where is he?_  

Fen’lath rolled over when she didn’t discover the warmth of her lover, causing the blanket fold around her like a constrictor. She searched her surroundings with her gaze yet found nothing aside from the serene view over the ruins bathing in the colors of dawn.

_Did I... dream it?_

A silent buzz reached Fen’lath’s ears, but she didn’t pay any more attention to it than she would have done to a bee. She was too taken away by her thoughts.

_No, no, I couldn’t have just dreamt it. I was at the palace, the Inquisition was there, Fen’Harel saved me, and we did... oh, we definitely **did** , _she added after realising how the silk brushed against her naked skin, _but where...?_

”Looking for someone, ma da’fen?”

A subtle smile crept across Fen’lath’s lips.

_There._   

                       Instinctively holding the blanket around her to keep herself covered, the young hanal’ghilan stood up after making sure that she wouldn’t stumble upon it. The god of rebellion stood infront of her.

"I just.." she began to explain, but her voice died out because she knew that the reason for her confusion was quite obvious.

"I'm sorry for causing perplexity", Fen’Harel hummed with understanding, "I brought something for you."

Fen’lath glanced at him in question before lowering her gaze to the neatly folded fabric he carried. She frowned and reached to touch it, but eventually held her hand in hesitation.

_What is it? A dress?_

"Is this for... me?" she asked incredulously.

”It’s a compensation for ruining your other dress”, the god of rebellion replied, hiding his smirk.

Fen’lath’s lips parted a little and her cheeks blushed in reminiscence of their shared passion. The blanket she held around her fell from her grasp **,** but the Dread Wolf pretended not to notice it, offering the peacock green bundle to her instead.

”Not that your beautiful body would need any covering, ma fen’ir’ina’lan’ehn”, he teased her while tracing the curve of her hips lightly with his left hand, ”but I couldn’t help myself but to grow jealous if others got to look at you like I did.”

His mischievous words made her blush even more intensely.

”Ma serannas, Fen’Harel.”  

 

The dress was gorgeous. It was made of light fabric which Fen’lath didn’t recognize. Maybe it was something similar to dales loden wool? It resembled it greatly, although it was much finer. The dress’ bodice was fitted whereas its skirt was wrapped and long enough to let it royally drag the ground. The sleeves were replaced with golden chains placed around the neck, shoulders, and upper arms, and there was a wide ornate belt to adorn the otherwise plain waist. Luckily, there had also been new brown foot wrappings hidden between the layers of the dress as Fen’lath didn’t like the human-made shoes which she had been given at the Winter Palace. Now she could always feel the ground under her feet as well as the soft grass which had brushed her skin when Fen’Harel had taken her on the ground again, again, and – the All-Mother help her – _again._

After Fen’lath had gotten dressed up and was still admiring her new outfit, the god of rebellion came to stand behind her and began to unravel her hair.

”I hope it is to your liking”, he cooed with a surprisingly gentle voice while he worked to turn Fen’lath’s messy braids into elegant locks. 

”It is more beautiful than any dress I have ever seen”, she told him truthfully _._

The Dread Wolf placed something on the top of her head while she spoke, and she felt how light chains descended on her forehead. He brushed the loose curls away from her shoulders, allowing his breath touch her skin like a gentle breeze. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the tingling that now spread all over her body.

Fen’Harel brushed his lips against her ear and and whispered her something as if it had been an enchament instead of a name that made Fen’lath freeze: ”Numin’gra.”      

 

_He knows._

 

The Dread Wolf remained still for a moment, observing Fen’lath’s reaction. When she finally relaxed, drew a deep breath, and found the courage to turn around to face him, she saw curiosity shining from his golden eyes. Truth to be told, she wasn’t surprised that he had discovered her soulname. What _was_ peculiar, however, was that there was something in his gaze that told her that he knew that it was more than just a name among others.

”How do you know?” Fen’lath asked, letting him see her astonishment. 

”It’s hard to ignore something that doesn’t simply leave you be no matter what you think or do”, Fen’Harel hummed and stroked her hair once, ”that name sang to me like a bird of paradise, echoed in my mind like the wingstokes of a hummingbird. I’m rarely cut off from the realm of spirits, more so by things that persistently keep me awake.”

                      Fen’lath held her breath as she stared the Dread Wolf in amazement: he had really found her soulname, the joining of their bodies had truly been a regocnition, and she was tied to him in spirit as he was to her. Her grandmother had told her how those things went, but surely even she hadn’t suspected that anything like _this_ could happen to anyone.

_And yet..._

Seeing his lover lost in deliberation, Fen’Harel pressed his palm to her cheek, bringing her attention to himself again.

”You admitted that you’re not Dalish”, he said, ”which explains why you live with a clan but have no vallaslin. Who are you?”

Fen’lath lowered her gaze, silently reproaching herself for not telling him in the first place. She couldn’t back away from this anymore. Perhaps it was time for the Roamer of the Beyond to finally know the truth about his legacy.

 

As the story progressed, Fen’Harel seemed ever more intrigued by it. Fen’lath had told him everything: how some of the ancient elves had fled into the woods after the destruction of Elvhenan, how first of her kind had come to be, and how they lived nowadays. Her story also included an explanation for the fact why she didn’t have a vallaslin. If any hanal’ghilan was compliant to take one, it would always be the one dedicated to the least rotten of the Evanuris involved in the practice, namely that of Mythal. Fen’Harel was known not to have any vallaslin designs to mark people as his own, and even if he had, it wouldn’t be possible to have one without getting banished or even lynched by the Dalish. As the First, Fen’lath had earned a great deal of disapproval from the other members of the Clan Lavellan, but with her grandmother’s approval, she had gotten to keep her face clean. Deshanna had supported her decision by stating that she was the clan’s best scout and spy by far, and in order to blend into a human-ruled society, it would be better if she had no visible markings which could imply that she was someone who was not supposed to be there. The truth, however, was that Fen’lath had thought that it would be disrespectful towards everything the Dread Wolf stood for if she let herself to be marked like the slaves of old. She told him that now among other things, even the truth about her soulname, but there was one thing yet to be told: what had happened between them earlier.

                      The young hanal’ghilan kept a brief pause in her story and took a deep breath. She glanced into the distance before turning her gaze to the ground in hesitation.

_How am I supposed to tell him?_

It wasn’t long when Fen’lath felt an encouraging hand lifting her chin, and the ever piercing stare of the two golden eyes.

”What is there to fear, ma da’fen?” Fen’Harel asked, his voice warm and soothing, ”you’ve already told me so many things that leave me in pure awe **,** and yet I suspect you’re holding something back.”

The young hanal’ghilan felt ashamed for not finding the courage to give him an honest answer, but that feeling was soon mixed with the everlasting thrill caused by his presence and touch.

”Ir abelas”, she apologized while trying to pull herself together, ”there is just something very important I should - should....”

                      When the unvoiced words fell into nothingness from Fen’lath’s lips, the god of rebellion didn’t push her **.** Though his thirst for knowledge was obvious, he understood that some matters required time before they could be told.

”Another time, then?” he suggested.

Fen’lath simpered and nodded nervously. Fen’Harel gave her a comforting smile as he took her hand in his.

”Come”, he urged her and directed her towards the Eluvian, ”I have something to show you.”

She was quick to oblige, and when she walked through the mirror with him, the homesickness she had felt deep in her heart just moments ago while recounting the history of her people was replaced with the awe for the remnant from the days of Elvhenan **:** Tarasylan Te’las.


	8. All is not lost

There was no sufficient word in Fen’lath’s mind when the view in front of her left her stunned **.** When Fen’Harel had captured her at the Winter Palace and taken her to the ruins, she hadn’t been able to get a proper look at the studythey had passed throughback then,but now that she had... The room’s floor was bright white and occasionally gleamed with different colors, its walls had frescos all over them, and above it all there was a matt white ceiling which had reliefs of leaves and vinescarvedinto it. The books that had been scattered around upon their arrival were now placed in neat piles by the walls.In the corner left between two large windows,there wasa massive oaken deskbehind which there wasanornate chair with a pair howling wolves depicted on itshigh back.

 

_All this, lost to modern day elves..._

 

Blinded by the room’s beauty, Fen’lath walked around and studiedthe paintings on the walls. One of them seemed to be presenting the day when Fen’Harel had sealed off the Evanuris.While the young the hanal’ghilan admired the sight, she failed to notice how the Dread Wolf leanedagainstthe wallnear the Eluvian and watched her **.**

”I imagine there are only a few of those who master theelvenart left in this world”, he noted and began to walk towards her, ”it is a skill nearly lost to time likeso manyothers. **”**

Fen'lath glanced at him, her lips already parted in question.

”Did you paint these yourself?” she asked, touching the wall gingerly as if afraid that it would shatter otherwise.

”I did”, the god of rebellion admitted, raising his chin while he spoke **.**

Though the gesture made him appear arrogant and even hubristic,it wasn’t an act of pride but that of habit. Fen'lath had noticed that he did so often when he said something, and when it came to speaking to her, he also focused his gaze down on her face. It always made Fen'lath feel as if something was silently calling out to her, demanding her attention to him and him only, and this time was no exception.

”My people have tales of the day when the Evanuris were struck down”, she told him, ”it is said that when magic began to diminish it felt like living inside a crumbling leaf. Palaces fell from the skies when there was nothing to hold them up anymore. There was a thunderstorm that lasted for days after the Veil was createdand everything withered under the crystal drops that were said to be the tears of the sky.”

Fen’Harel averted his gaze sadly, remembering the events of the day that would define the faith of all elves for countless decades.

”I remember”, he concurred wistfully.

                Fen’lath felt the pain that was tormenting the Dread Wolf's mind. It was part of the recognition that lifemates felt each other’s sorrows and joys, and his regrets were so great that they nearly broke her heart. She looked at him with compassion and brought her hand comfortingly to his right cheek. It was the first time after their joining when the god of rebellionseemed to be the one in need of her, gazing at her like she was a calming oasis in the middle of the desert of his thoughts.

”Though the Dalish may not see it and our kin in human cities don’t remember, the Hanal’ghilanisknow the truth and understand”, she consoled him, ”it had to be done.”

                There was a passing shade of sorrowin the Dread Wolf’s eyes but itvanished the next timehe blinked **.**

”I’d love to meet more of your people”, he told her, ”it’s a wonder how they have managed to stay hidden to this day.”

Fen’lath glanced at the floor and saw her own reflection. Her feelings turned briefly into a mix of wistfulnessand regret. Her parents weren’t anywhere nearby, and there was only one other of her kind within Clan Lavellan in addition to herself. She wouldn’t want to disappoint her lover, but...

”I’m sorry”, the young hanal’ghilan sighed, ”there’s only two of us in our clan, and the others I know of are too far away.”

Instead of showing any signs of disappointment, Fen’Harel smiled at her tenderly and ran the fingers of his right hand over her hair.

”Don’t be, ma da’fen”, he said, his voice deep and soft, ”I understand why your kind chooses to remain hidden from others. I do hope that one day they won't need to pretend to be anything but what they are – what _you_ truly are.”

Feeling relieved and thankful, Fen'lath managed a warm smile **.**

”I hope so too.”

 

The pair spent an hour or so in Fen’Harel’s study, discussing history and reliving it in their minds. At the point when Fen’lath asked her lover about where they exactly were **,** however, he remained silent for a while before he smirked and told her that it was better if he showed her. It was his stronghold, after all.

 

***

 

Voices in the hall invaded the stairway. All the footsteps and whispering made the hanal’ghilan’s heart beat more rapidly. The door before her was open, and Fen’Harel had his hand reached out to her. Fen’lath was accustomed to large crowds as she had infiltrated many, but to be the center of attention.... Well, it was a bit unnerving. There was nothing for her to lose, however, and her curiosity soon bested whatever anxiety might have preceded it. She closed her eyes and sighed before flashing a charming smile at the god of rebellion and taking his hand.

 

It was time for her to take a leap into the unknown.

 

The hall was grand and elaborately ornamented. Its floor near the walls consisted of plain white tiles, but there were more ornate ones bordering a golden walkway which divided the space in two. The walkway led to a dais on which lied an oaken throne with arms carved to look like large reclining wolves **.** The god of rebellion began to lead his lover to through the hall towards the main door. Though the other elves bowed their heads in reverence of their leader, Fen’lath felt countless eyes on her back. Her attention, however, was drawn to the golden tiles under her feet. Their glimmer was like that of a thousand suns, and they were so clear and bright that she saw her own reflection on them, even if it was a bit distorted. She distantly remembered the stories ofgolden halls from her childhood, but those had been only frail attempts to pass on and preserve vivid images ofthe past. Now Fen’lath had the opportunity to see part of the lost gloryherself, butshe was wrong to think that the wonders would end when Fen’Harel led her outside.

 

_*gasp*_

 

The red haired hanal’ghilan stood on a stairheadwith her eyes wide in amazement. Though the fortress appeared to be high in mountains, well above the snow line, the courtyard was lush with grass, and the air felt warm. There were trees of crystal on the edge of the courtyard’s upper level. Their branches reached majestically towards the light blue sky and glistened in the sun. There was something oddabout the place,though, as it made Fen’lath feel like she was inside a gigantic bubble. It wasn’t visible, but it was still there. When she kept gazing to the sky **,** Fen’Harel began to smile beside her.

”So **,** you can sense it”, he hummed with satisfaction in his voice.

”There's something strange about the air”, Fen’lath conceded,intrigued by the sensation that danced upon her skin, ”what is it?”

”When the Veil was formed, magic began to diminish, as you know. However, it remains strong here due to the presence of a foci sustaining it - _my_ foci.”

                When Fen’lath had begun her journey towards Halamshiral, she hadn't expected her mind to be so overwhelmed by new knowledge.As countless thoughts emerged and began to circle inside her head, she couldn’t help herself from looking around at the same time. She didn’t even remember to ask what was this ”foci” Fen’Harel had mentioned. When Fen’lath began to descend the stairs leading to the courtyard, he followed her silently, letting her experience it all herself rather than spoil all the surprises ahead. There was a small hidden society flourishing within the high walls which were made of white limestone **.** Beautiful golden reliefs decorated the buildings **'** facades **,** andthere was a large fresco presenting a lush forest painted inside one which turned out to be a small bathhouse. On the lower courtyard, there was a stable full of majestic harts and a multileveled apartment building with gilded staircases and numerous vines on its front.

 

In all its glory, the sight was astonishing.

 

While wandering around the courtyard, Fen’lath saw other elves who looked at her curiously. It was mostly due to who was accompanying her, of course, for who was she to gain the Wolf’s attention so fully whenshehad never been to Tarasylan Te’las before? The smirk on Fen’Harel’s lips revealed that he, too,had noticed the interest they drew from others, but otherwise he didn’t seem to care, focusing all his attention on observing his lover’s reactions instead. His mischievous nature stuck out in his behaviour like it had donefrom the first time Fen’lath had met him in his true form. There was also sincerity in him, though, along with hidden sadness and regret. He seemed to be the one to speak his mind unabashed with his words sometimes stinging like needles. As for the sadness, he rarely let itshow, but it had surfaced when Fen’lath had mentioned the fall of Elvhenan. He obviously regretted what had to be done, but he was trying to mend the wound it had left on thePeople: he was fighting for them to regain what was lost, and _that_ was admirable.

 

And.... then there was Fen’lath. There was their joining. There was their recognition about which she should still talk to him. _By the grace of the halla,_ she should have told him from the moment it happened. _Damn it all_.

 

When Fen’lath stopped in front of a golden relief representing flying griffons, sinking deeper into her thoughts,Fen’Harelmovedto claim her attention **.** The sight of him made her feel a bit embarrassed because only now did she realise how lost she had gotten in the amazement caused by everything she was nowsurrounded by – among other things. The sharp gaze in the Dread Wolf’s golden eyes turned softer as he looked at her. The beads and rings inhis dark dreadlocks chinkedwhen he cocked his head.

”Your overflowing curiosity is intriguing, ma da’fen”, he told her, ”but alas, I must ask something of you before we continue.”

Fen’lath raised hereyebrows in surprise.

”Of course”, she replied straight out and so formally that she nearly automatically addressed Fen’Harel as ”Tishan”.

”I going to attend a war council soon”, he explained, sounding a bit more serious than before, ”I’d like you to come with me.”

”Me? Attending a war council? Why?”

”You have been inside the Inquisition’s stronghold. I doubt it was one of the most pleasant experiences, but if there’s anything you can tell us, I’d appreciate it.”

                The young hanal’ghilan lowered her gaze in confusion. Was this the sole reason why Fen’Harel had brought her here? No, of course not. It was the recognition that had drawn him to her, and he wasn’t fighting against it at all. Furthermore, he spoke like she had the option to decline the request. But if it would help her people and all elves alike to begin anew... Fen’lath’s decision didn’t take long to form.

”I will.”


	9. Preparations for war

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, I hate writer's block... -_- But finally, the next chapter. :)

The room was plainly decorated and filled with natural light which streamed in from the windows. Fen'Harel sat in a large armchair in front of which there was a massive stone table with Thedas' on it. Fen'lath stood by him, trying to appear as calm as ever, but she couldn't help feeling a bit nervous. She had felt the same before entering the fortress' grand hall, but this time the feeling refused to go away. There were six elves in the room in addition to her and Fen'Harel. One of them glared at her suspiciously, whiletwo others greeted her with respect, and the rest didn't seem to care. She was a mere stranger to them, but she obviously had Fen'Harel's favor and thus no-one dared to object her participation in the meeting. That thought eased the young hanal'ghilan's mind a bit, but still... Her clan had never had such meetings nor had she seen one before, but she knew that she should appear confident, true, and determined in every turn.

 

So Fen'lath sighed, raised her chin as she watched the six elves before her, and tried to be everything she knew she should be.

 

A pair of green eyes watched closely as small figurines were moved across the war table. From what Fen'lath had seen and heard, she summarized that the next attack would hit hard on the Empire of Orlais. The god of rebellion seemed to have some opinions about that, however, as she felt his gaze lingering on her from time to time. It felt like their souls grazed each other gently like two feathers in the wind with every glance he made. That feeling pierced Fen'lath's mind and made it difficult for her to focus on the matter at hand. Luckily, by listening to one of the generals who was addressing Fen'Harel, she was able to steer her thoughts elsewhere and hold herself together.

”This, my lord, is an essential place near Val Royeaux for it is the most important source of grain and wine for the palace”, the council's only city elf said in common tongue, ”destroying it would weaken our enemy considerably.”

”To what end, Varos?” a Dalish female protested beside him, ”by starving the enemy leaders we would gain no advantage We should focus on the Dales just as before.”

                   The difference in the two elves' opinions caused bickering between them and it went on as long as a tall elvhen man, who still carried Mythal's vallaslin on his face, lost his temper.

” _Suina_! We would gain nothing from such minor exploits. We have fought to recover knowledge which has been lost for many centuries, but this so-called 'Inquisition' is rallying its troops in an immense pace. The battle of the Emerald Graves proved that they are more than capable of opposing us. If we are to conquer our lands back from the shemlen, we must do something about them first.”

”But the Dales are...” the representative of the Dalish tried to object, but the elvhen man didn't allow herto finish.

”Unimportant”, he cut her off with a glare, ”you focus on details but refuse to see the whole picture as you always have, Leana. You value the history told by your own people over the truth.”

”That is _not_ true!”

”Then forget the Dales, forget the grudge you hold for the humans, and focus on what's important.”

”'Forget'? _Forget?_ ” Leana flared up, ”you're ancient enough to have dust in your ears and _you_ refuse to let go of the past yourself!”

 

” _Enough_!”

 

Fen'Harel stood up and let his feral golden gaze sweep over his generals like an ominous wave before the storm. Despite his warning demeanor, his moves and words were still controlled. By raising his voice, he had gotten the rapt attention of everyone else present in the room. The god of rebellion had the skill to command respect with carefully chosen tone and simple words which was a useful ability for a leader. Perhaps it was one of the reasons he had been chosen as one of the Evanuris in the first place. Whatever the truth may be, it made shivers run down Fen'lath's spine before a strange tingling feeling took over her. The Dread Wolf was many things, it seemed, more so than she could have ever imagined.

_Intriguing_.

                   As seven pairs of eyes stared at Fen'Harel who now stood at his full height with his chin proudly lifted, he took a short step towards the war table.

”I understand why there are different opinions about how we should proceed for they are all correct and necessary”, he said calmly with his deep voice, ”however, Abelas speaks truly about the threat the Inquisition poses to us, and it should be dealt with as quickly and efficiently as possible.”

The elvhen man with Mythal's vallaslin nodded in silent gratitude.

”We already know that the Inquisition's base is situated in an old human temple built on a place which was formerly dedicated to Mythal”, Fen'Harel continued, ”but now we have someone who has been inside it. I believe her knowledge can aid us greatly. Fen'lath?”

                   With the Dread Wolf'sgazeturned towards the young hanal'ghilan, he offered her his hand. She felt her heartbeat quickening as all the attention was suddenly on her, but she candidly took her lover's hand and moved to stand beside him. He gave her an approving smile before he turned to address his generals again.

”She was captured by the Inquisition's soldiers and taken captive some time ago, but she managed to escape”, Fen'Harel told them, ”let us hear what she can tell us and make the best of it.”

He didn't say anything further, and the slowly impending silence encouraged Fen'lath to speak. She closed her eyes briefly to ease her mind and let her body relax.

”The temple lies behind a village”, she began, keeping her voice steady, ”I didn't see any guards until we reached the temples' doors **.** Behind them, there's a great hall with many side corridors and stairs leading to the upper level. I saw a window-sized hole in the room where they tried to interrogateme and I suspect there is one in each room to keepfresh air flowing in.”

”Can you estimate the numbers the temple could hold?” one of the three other elvhen generals asked.

 

_Hmm..._

 

That kind of question was undeniably hard for anyone to answer. Fen'lath kept a pause and furrowed as she thought about what she should say. She relied on her experience as a scout in such matters, but the mountain inside which the temple had been built was vast and it could hide numerous caverns and rooms.

”In the great hall alone there were dozens of people”, the red-haired hanal'ghilan finally replied, focusing her gaze on the map before her, ”humans, dwarves... It's highly probable that the temple's corridors stretch deep into the bowels of the mountain. There could be thousands of soldiers in there.”

”Were there any others than humans and dwarves?” Fen'Harel inquired, ”any of our kin?”

Fen'lath glanced at him and didn't turn her gaze away as it got immediately locked to his.

”No, my lord, I saw none”, she shook her head, ”but there was a qunari in the company of otherInquisition's members at the Winter Palace.”

”'Winter Palace'?” she heard Abelas repeat, ”are our allies in danger there?”

_What?_

                   Two green eyes widened as Fen'lath's ears caught the elvhen's words. Had Briala been helping the elven army all along?

_And when she knew I was coming to the palace, so did..._

A small inconspicuous smile lifted the left corner of the hanal'ghilan's mouth. Apparently, Wolf's presence at the palace hadn't been a mere whim after all, and that thought caused warmth to ripple over her skin as she looked at her pensive lover.

”I don't believe so”, he suddenly contemplated as an answer to Abelas' question, confirming Fen'lath's suspicions in the process, ”Briala has the trust of the empress. As long as she and her agents stay inside the palace, no harm should come to them.”

”What about the people in the Alienage?” Varos asked worriedly.

The Dread Wolf smirked.

”Don't worry, my friend, they have the best protection they could ever have.”

 

***

 

The sun had begun to set by the time the meeting was concluded **.** Fen'lath hadn't been sure how much her information could help the elven army when she had entered the war room with Fen'Harel, but it seemed that even the smallest bits had notable effects sometimes. Because of the details provided by her, Fen'Harel and his generals now had a highly accurate plan. Before it could be put into operation **,** however, there were preparations to be made, and several messengers left the stronghold before supper was served in the great hall.

 

Soon, the time would come for the Inquisition to fear their enemy.

 

Soon, the time would come for Orlais to tremble beneath the shadow of those which it had considered inferior for far too long.

 

The time would come for all of Thedas to feel the bite of the Wolf.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Elvish translations for this chapter:**

 

_Suina!:_ Silence!

 

 


	10. Dreaming

****With the night conquering the sky, Tarasylan Te'las grew quiet as any other fortress. Before retiring to his quarters, Fen'Harel requested his lover to sleep beside him, and Fen’lath had no objections **.** He gave her a thin gown to wear for the night, whereas he got undressed save for his breeches. Fen'lath sat on the edge of the ornate bed, slipped under the incredibly soft blanket, and shifted to rest beside Fen'Harel. She was so tired that she closed her eyes when she felt the warmth of her lover's skin. The Dread Wolf folded his arm around her and kissed her forehead gently. By her lover's side Fen'lath felt safer than she had felt in her entire life, and with her cheek pressed against his chest, she already saw the first glimpses of the Fade **.**

 

There, she would hopefully find someone who she really needed to see.

 

***

 

It took a while, but after the misty green swirls disappeared, Fen'lath's wolfish form appeared to a forest which had several aravels hidden among its trees.

”Grandmother?” Numin'gra called out, having been led to the place by thinking about Deshanna's soulname, Reathe.

”I'm here, lethallan”, she heard a familiar voice answer from under a nearby tree.

An illusion of a breeze grazed Numin'gra's skin through her nightgown as she hurried to greet the older hanal'ghilan with a hug.

”It's good to see you again”, Reathe told her, ”I was worried when you didn't contact me last night.”

”I'm sorry, grandmother”, Numin'gra answered with a shy smile, ”I was... delayed.”

”What happened?”

”I... sorta ran into the Dread Wolf. Or actually, he found me. Or he danced with me. I...”

Reathe listened to her granddaughter in surprise at first, but her expression soon turned into a smile which was accompanied by a warm laugh.

”I suspect there's something you want to tell me.”

 

_So much that I don't even know where to start._

Because words came to her like a landslide **,** Numin'gra had to stop and sort out her thoughts every now and then, but she managed to mention every detail to her grandmother. She told her about the events of the Winter Palace, Briala, and the war, but there was another specific part in her story that caught Reathe's attention.

”Recognition between you and the Dread Wolf?” she asked in astonishment, ”are you sure?”

An embarrassed smile made the corner of Numin'gra's lips twitch nervously when she nodded as a reply.

”It felt like a fever”, she described the event, ”it was like we'd die without each other, and after we... er, you know **.** After that, he knew my name.”

                      Reathe looked serious as she pondered her granddaughter's situation. Numin'gra's golden eyes were fixed on her, but she didn't dare to disturb her.

”A recognition indeed”, the older hanal'ghilan stated after a short moment of silence, ”it shouldn't be possible, though, no matter what our people’s heritage.”

”He has no name here”, Numin'gra added, ”I found none.”

”And yet you're bound to him now just like he is to you, but what about...?”

”I'm quite sure the answer is yes”, the red-haired elf blushed, ”I... felt it when it happened.”

Reathe smiled at her comfortingly.

”There's nothing to fear, lethallan.”

”But I still haven't told him **...”**

”It's not a secret you can keep, but take your time. Tell him when the moment seems right to you.”

                      As a radiant smile spread over Numin'gra's face, it revealed that the encouragement from her grandmother was just what she had needed **.** She had no time to thank her, however, as a distant echo drew her gaze elsewhere.

”Da'sa?” a familiar voice reached her ears through the mists of the Fade.

Reathe heard the sound merely as a distant hum, but she perceived what had caught her granddaughter's attention.

”He's calling to you, isn't he?” she asked.

Numin'gra swallowed nervously.

”He is”, she admitted, ”he hasn't seen me like this. What will he think about me?”

”There's only one way to find out”, Reathe encouraged her to go to her lover.

The younger hanal'ghilan glanced at her and gave her a small smile.

”I guess so”, she sighed as she went to hug her grandmother, ”I'll see you soon.”

”I know, lethallan”, Reathe smiled as her figure began to blur, ”dareth shiral.”

 

Numin'gra stood alone in the forest, waiting for the Wolf to arrive. If her heart would have had a will of its own, it would have pounded its way right through her chest and made a run for it. There was no temperature in the Fade, and yet the hanal'ghilan shivered when a familiar figure appeared from the mist.

”You're a hard one to find, da'sa”, Fen'Harel's low voice pierced her as he walked to her.

Numin'gra didn't say anything when she saw how her lover stopped to gaze at her in surprise.

”You look... different”, he pondered with a slight hint of intrigue in his voice.

”I apologize for my strange looks”, the young hanal'ghilan said, trying to hide herself under the gown, ”from the outside, I look like a regular elf, but when my inner self comes forth, I look...”

”Bestial?”

”It's the wolf blood. I'd change my appearance if I could, but sadly I cannot.”

”Of, ma fen'Vana”, Fen'Harel hummed, ”why should anyone change something so unique and beautiful such as yourself?”

A rosy blush made Numin'gra's cheeks shimmer.

”I just thought...” she began **,** but the Dread Wolf shushed her by pressing his finger on her lips.

”There's nothing wrong with questions and pondering, but in this case, you think too much, da'sa.”

                      Fen'Harel's reaction was a surprise as well as an immense relief for the doubtful hanal'ghilan. Her grandmother had been right: she had worried too much. Would her lover’s reaction be the same, however, when it came to the _other_ matter? It was bothering her greatly, and the Dread Wolf saw it. He reached for her chin and slid his thumb along the soft skin of her jawline.

”What troubles you so?” he asked, demanding his lover's gaze to join his own.

”Ir abelas”, Numin'gra began, feeling insecure, ”I should have told you sooner... about everything.”

”About this, you mean?” Fen'Harel moved his hand from her chin to graze the red fur on her left arm.

_That and other matters_ , she was about to reply, but the words got stuck in her throat and her answer eventually came out as a series of small nods.

                       As the god of rebellion's golden eyes gleamed above her, Numin'gra got the distinct feeling that he knew there was still something she wasn’t ready to tell him. Luckily for her, he decided to let the matter be for now **.**

”I'm glad that I found you, ma fen'ir'ina'lan'ehn”, he said with the familiar deep velvet in his voice, ”I have something to show you.”

The young hanal'ghilan gazed at him in question, but she took her hand without hesitation when it was offered. The Dread Wolf led her to the edge of the forest towards a wall of mist.  He was clearly leading her to a dream of his own, but what she saw when they entered it, she couldn’t have imagined even after visiting Tarasylan Te'las.

_Is this... Arlathan?_

The two elves stood in a hall covered entirely with tiles made out of the purest crystals. It was illuminated by golden lanterns hovering near the ceiling, and its walls were decorated with silvery branches. The hall was full of people focusing on their own affairs and duties. Numin'gra stared at the sight with her mouth slightly agape. She glanced at Fen'Harel and saw him in all his splendor: the wolfskull, the earrings and other jewellery, the finest silks of his green clothes... and that wicked grin on his face when he saw her amazement.

”Did you think we'd enter a ball in our sleepwear?” he hummed, grazing his lover's shoulder with his knuckles.

Only then did Numin'gra realise that she wasn't wearing her nightgown anymore either. On the contrary, she was wearing a gorgeous coppery dress that would outshine the latest fashion of Orlais anytime.

_But what... Why are we...?_

                      While the red-haired hanal'ghilan was trying to recover from the astonishment that had overpowered her mind, she realised that Fen'Harel was bowing before her and offering her his hand.

”Care to dance, my lady?” he asked her.

Numin'gra wasn’t any more experienced in dancing than she been at the Winter Palace, but when she took Fen'Harel's hand and he led her to the floor, she forgot her lack of skill. Her partner was an experienced dancer and she glided over the dance floor like a leaf in his hands. She realised that the other elvhen in the room had turned to watched them, and countless pairs of eyes were fixed to follow their every move **.**

                      Numin'gra knew that the people around them were only part of Fen'Harel's dream or memory **,** but their presence felt as real as his **.**

”Are we...?” she soon found herself asking while staring at the people around them, and she got her reply quickly in form of a smile.

”This is my palace in Arlathan”, he told her, ”if the members of the Evanuris didn't throw parties every now and then, the empire's whole government would have been thrown into disarray.”

Numin'gra cocked her head and gave a confused laugh.

”Why?”

”Most of the politics were done in events like this. Power, intrigue, danger, sex **...** it's all here”, the Dread Wolf explained while a lone lantern descended from the ceiling and began to circle around the pair.

”There are still many secrets of the past which even the Hanal'ghilanis don't know about”, Numin'gra said while the glow of the lantern occasionally played in her gaze.

Hearing the curiosity in her voice, Fen'Harel laughed softly.

”I can show you everything you want to know and see, da'sa, but for now... let's just dance.”

 

* * *

 

**Elvish translations for this chapter:**

_Reathe:_ Purity

_dareth shiral:_ farewell


	11. The Slow Arrow

The room was empty. Fen'lath hadn't found her lover from her side after waking up from their joined dream. How was that even possible? Shouldn't he have awakened at the same time as she did? Had he made her sleep just a little longer to be able to slip away? Fen’lath sat up in confusion. What could have made him leave with such secrecy?

                      The hanal’ghilan let her gaze wander around the room until she stopped to stare at the curule seat near the bed. There was a neatly folded pile of ivory cloth and a crystal grace placed on it **.** Fen'lath cocked her head in curiosity.

_That’s not the dress I wore yesterday,_ she wondered and rose to pick the flower up.

Its petals were white as snow, and its scent was still fresh. Fen'lath smiled to herself when she caught the faint trace of a familiar scent on the flower's pedicle **.** It seemed that the Dread Wolf had left a gift for her.

 

Perhaps he was waiting for her to join him downstairs?

 

***

 

There were only a few people in the great hall, and Fen'Harel was nowhere to be seen. Fen’lath knew it was foolish to presume that he'd be there to watch her every move, but his absence made the hall feel emptier than it actually was. The red-haired hanal'ghilan folded her arms across her chest and glanced up at the ceiling **.** She felt lonely without her Wolf, but beneath that longing lied the heartfelt bond of their joined souls **.** It told her that wherever he was right now, he was alive and well. The cognizance of him being safe set her mind at ease and made room for other matters: her stomach was grumbling. Though Fen’Harel had shown Fen’lath the fortress, she didn’t know where the kitchen was. She remembered the faces of the elves who had served supper yesterday **,** but they were nowhere to be seen right now. Perhaps she could try to find the kitchen on her own? It was probable that she would get lost and end up wandering around aimlessly, but…

_Well,_ Fen’lath shrugged and took the first, decisive step forward, _here goes nothing._

***

 

As the young hanal’ghilan had suspected, the wonders of Tarasylan Te’las made her forget about her hunger. It felt strange, to wander the gilded halls and corridors alone, but Fen’lath couldn’t help feeling curious about what secrets the fortress might still hold. Having walked through several rooms and corridors, she eventually found herself in a doorway which led to a lush garden full of colourful flowers and bushes. In the centre of it all grew an elm tree which provided shade for those who sought it. The garden was a peaceful place amidst the strife reigning outside the fortress’ walls **.** Fen’lath felt how serenity washed over her with every step she took on the stoned path.

_There should be more places like this,_ she thought as she stopped by a shrub reaching towards her with its branches, _no wars, no quarrels… Only quietness and beauty._

_Perfection._

While delicate fingers gently caressed the petals of a camellia, a silent chuckle insidiously broke the garden’s peace. The sound greatly resembled the way in which Fen’Harel often laughed, but its tone differed from his. When Fen’lath turned to look over her shoulder, she saw an unknown elvhen man leaning against the wall near the doorway **.** He had long black hair **,** violet eyes, and a wicked expression on his face.

**“** I apologize if I startled you”, the man said as he began to walk casually towards her, “manners are sometimes hard to remember these days.”

“I… it’s alright”, Fen’lath replied, doing her best to control her confusion **.**

“You’re new here, aren’t you?”  the stranger continued quickly, ignoring her momentary loss of words.

“I am.”

                      The stranger’s straightforward attitude made Fen’lath blink her eyes in wondering silence more than once. Fen’Harel, too, often spoke his mind quite shamelessly, but even he sometimes held his tongue. The elvhen before her, however, seemed… different. Who was he?  Fen’lath watched as the man came closer, smirking.

“In a fortress full of elves, I still manage to silence you, hmm?” he chatted, “am I that different from them?”

“No”, Fen’lath gave an embarrassed laugh, “forgive my manners. It’s just…”

“Tsk, tsk. You’re too quick to apologize, young one. I’m sure he didn’t choose you for your humility.”

“But who… What do you…?”

The stranger’s smirk widened.

“Not every day does someone like the fabled Dread Wolf enter a palace full of humans to rescue an unknown woman.”

After hearing those words **,** there was only one question the hanal’ghilan wanted an answer to.

“ _Who are you?_ ”

“My name is Felassan”, the man replied, “a pleasure to meet you **,** tarlan Lavellan.”

Fen’lath felt how frustration began to grow within her. The elvhen calling himself the Slow Arrow seemed to know a great deal about her compared to what she knew about him, which was namely nothing at all. Not even Fen’Harel had mentioned the stranger’s name before **.**

“Holding back questions will only give you a headache, da’len”, Felassan said insightfully and smiled his sly smile, seemingly amused by Fen’lath’s reaction.

_What…?_

“I didn’t say anything”, the young hanal’ghilan defended herself with a slight snarl underlining the last syllable.

“You didn’t, that’s true. Your eyes just betrayed you.”

                      If Fen’lath hadn’t met Abelas earlier, she could have thought that the empire of ancient elves was built on a pool of sarcasm and wickedness from which Fen’Harel had gotten a slightly smaller dose than Felassan. She glanced at the black-haired elvhen man like a wolf who ruffles her neck fur, and he met her reaction with mirth.

“You have quite a temper **”,** Felassan noted, “maybe that’s why he’s so fond of you.”

“Well, I see that you’re well aware of who I am and how I got here”, Fen’lath stated, her voice tense, “why don’t you do me a favour and tell me why are _you_ here?”

“Arrogance, too. What a prize you are, indeed” the elvhen hummed, “very well, young one. My business here is to make a report to our good Wolf who is absent at the moment.”

The young hanal’ghilan squinted her eyes questioningly

“What report might that be?”

“A good one, I hope.”

                      The words spoken were not those of Felassan’s. Walking tall and proud, the Dread Wolf approached the two elves from the direction of the elm tree **.** Only then did Fen’lath notice the warmth of his presence. He couldn’t have been there long. Was the Eluvian nearby? Fen’lath’s green gaze intensified with intrigue. As she wondered where the mirror of the ancients was hidden, she felt how her lover’s arms curled around her waist from behind.

“I’m sorry for leaving you alone this morning, ma da’fen”, he said softly, hiding his right cheek in her red hair, “an urgent matter demanded my attention.”

“It also required nineteen rather capable mages as I recall”, Felassan remarked wickedly, earning an amused hum from Fen’Harel.

“As direct as always, ma falon”, the latter noted, and Fen’lath felt how his lips curved into a smirk.

“If the Arrow didn’t hit its target every time **,** then how would the Wolf hold the mighty Orlais between his jaws?”

_Orlais? So **he** ’s the one Fen’Harel referred to during the war council. _

With the sudden realisation, Fen’lath glanced at Felassan. All the unusual tension vanished from her mind, allowing curiosity to take back its rightful place **.** Fen’lath wondered what had made her become irritated so easily, but she let the matter be when she felt how the hands holding her waist began to slide away, and her lover’s golden eyes appeared in front of her.

“Come, ma da’fen. Lunch is already served in the great hall”, he told her and then turned meaningfully to Felassan, “we can speak there.”  

 

* * *

**Elvish translations for this chapter:**

_tarlan:_ (noble) lady

 


	12. Her confession

A strong scent of herbs wafted inside the grand hall. Fen’Harel sat at the table which had been placed in front the dais. While he had a conversation with Felassan who was sitting on his left side, Fen’lath focused on the dish in front of her. She hadn’t eaten anything after waking up, and the tomatoes filled with herb paste smelled delicious. She wasn’t sure when was the last time she had felt this hungry **.** There was one possible explanation for it, but it was too absurd. It had only been days since…. Um… yes. Perhaps Fen’lath should ask her grandmother about it. The mere thought of the subject made her feel embarrassed.

 

_By Mythal, I should really do something about this…_

Feeling distracted, the young hanal’ghilan forgot about her hunger after eating only half a tomato. The guilt returned to haunt her. She couldn’t hide the matter indefinitely. She could leave Tarasylan Te’las **,** of course, but that didn’t feel right. Fen’Harel was no hanal’ghilan, but he was her wolfling’s sire nonetheless. Perhaps she should tell him tonight, alone.

_Tonight…_

                      A warm hand descended suddenly on Fen’lath’s, interrupting her thoughts and causing her to flinch. Only then did she realise that she had been chopping the uneaten half of the tomato with a fork and there was only red mush left on her plate.

“Is everything alright, ma da’fen?” she heard Fen’Harel’s deep, soft voice from beside her.

“Um, yes”, Fen’lath replied absent-mindedly, “I was lost in thought.”

“What troubles you?”

“I…”

_No, not here, you...!_

The hanal’ghilan turned to smile nervously at her lover.

“It’s nothing, really”, she tried to beam at him reassuringly. 

“Doesn’t sound like it”, Felassan cut in as he lowered his goblet back on the table.

                      Fen’lath felt how a blush began to burn her cheeks. She turned her gaze away from Fen’Harel whose golden eyes were fixed on her. He was growing worried about her, but she was too nervous to say anything.

 _How does he do that?_ she grumbled in her mind, wondering how Felassan always knew where to strike with his words.

She didn’t get angry, though, for the comment was true. No-one looked at her besides her lover, and yet she felt that everyone in the hall was staring at her accusingly.

“Vhenan?” the Dread Wolf called her, and she shivered.

 _Such a strong word to use_ ¸ Fen’lath thought and raised her gaze to finally meet his, _am I worthy of it?_

                      The lovers were engaged in a wordless conversation. Fen’lath felt ready to break and tell the Dread Wolf everything, but the circumstances were about to change in an unexpected way when Felassan decided to speak again.

“So, tell me”, he chatted, glancing at his friend, “are there wolf pups to be expected anytime soon?”

Luckily, the other diners didn’t pay any special attention to those words. While Fen’Harel chuckled at the suggestive joke, Fen’lath was turning red from head to toes.

“I don’t see how that’s a topical subject in the middle of a war”, the Dread Wolf noted.

“Oh well”, Felassan shrugged, “I guess at least it’s not for the two of you trying.”

 

_Fenedhis lasa!_

A chair was pushed back with a screech. Fen’lath leant against the table with her shaking arms. Though Felassan had spoken in common tongue, the other elves in the hall had ignored his words. Now that they caused a reaction, however, the young hanal’ghilan felt several eyes on her.

“Ir abelas, Tishan”, she apologized hastily, “ar rya dara.”

Then she turned towards the door leading to Fen’Harel’s quarters, and though her lover’s voice reached her ears, she didn’t turn to look back. Fen’lath didn’t want to see her own demons taking shape outside her mind.

 

The crippling insecurity.

The unspoken shame **.**

The secret growing within her.

Those were the things she just couldn’t hide – not anymore.

 

***

 

Green, beautiful flames danced inside their marble prison, enlightening the back of a miserable figure with their eerie glow. Fen’lath sat on the edge of the large bed with her head bowed. She had her heart in her mouth due to hearing the muffled steps of Fen’Harel who was ascending the stairs to enter the room.

 _This is it_. _Just keep calm,_ she told herself and swallowed nervously soon after, _keep calm._

                      By the time the room’s door was opened and the familiar clink of the rings and beads came closer, Fen’lath truly was as ready as one could be in a similar situation. When the veilfire’s light carried the Dread Wolf’s shadow to her **,** she didn’t turn to look at him.

“I can’t help but wonder, nas’falon”, she spoke in elven, running her right hand along the dark green blanket covering the bed, “why am I still here?”

Fen’Harel gave an incredulous laugh.

“What is there not to understand, ma da’fen?” he wondered, “don’t you want to be here?”

A small, sad smile lifted the corner of Fen’lath’s lips.

“More than anything.”

                      Seemingly puzzled, the Dread Wolf eventually sat on the bed beside his lover. He stared at her intensely, searching for answers.

“Tell me”, his straightforward words weren’t a request nor were they a demand.

_Tell him, tell him…_

“I don’t understand how is this whole situation even possible”, Fen’lath began to explain quietly, “it’s unheard of to recognize with someone whose not of our heritage. Furthermore, you could have just abandoned me after… after leaving the ruins.”

“Vhenan…”

“That is what I mean. You found my other name, you call me your heart… But why? What am I to you, Lord of Tricksters?”

“Is it so wrong for me to love you?” Fen’Harel searched for his lover’s gaze.

“It isn’t wrong. What _is_ wrong is that I’ve been too cowardly to tell you the truth”, Fen’lath’s voice faded to a whisper when she turned to look at him, “I’m pregnant.”

                      Fen'lath's words made confusion sweep over Fen’Harel, but it soon turned into a loudening chuckle. He didn’t understand.

“And next you’re going to tell me that you have a husband waiting for you to return home, aren’t you?” he joked.

The hanal'ghilan didn’t say anything. If words didn’t convince the Dread Wolf, then silence would be a better option – and it was. He soon furrowed his brow as he pondered what he had just been told.

“That’s… unexpected.”

                       With her heart beating more rapidly, Fen’lath waited for her lover to continue. A knock on the door disturbed the moment, however, breaking the silence like a mirror hit by a stone. The room’s door was opened slightly.

“My lord, there’s a guest waiting for you in the hall”, a steady male voice announced.

The Dread Wolf rose expressionlessly to his feet, acting as if the conversation hadn’t even taken place between him and Fen’lath which made the latter grow a bit worried.

“Come”, he said **,** offering his hand to her, “I’m sure you’d like to meet her too.”        


	13. The Protector

White walls basked nobly in sunlight which streamed in from the large windows. A blend of silence and thrill wafted heavily in the air while Fen’lath walked along the corridor with her lover. She squeezed his hand slightly when they neared the war room. Abelas was waiting for them there, standing dutifully on the left side of the high doors.

“She is waiting for you inside”, he stated rigidly to Fen’Harel when he noticed their arrival.

“So I was told”, the latter hummed. “Ma serannas, Abelas.”

Fen’lath felt how the elvhen general glared at her before he opened the doors. He had acted suspiciously towards her from the start, and he still didn’t seem to trust her. She didn’t let it bother her, though. Trust was something that would only come with time, and Abelas needed more time than others.

 

Besides, enthusiasm’s grip on Fen’lath’s mind was too strong to let her focus on it right now. Who was waiting behind the closed doors?

Who were they going to meet?

 

***

The markers stood dutifully on the map. Sunlight streamed in to caress their forms, and thin shadows stretched across the stone table. Fen’lath followed Fen’Harel into the war room, unknowing of who would be waiting for them inside. Her surprise, however, proved to be greater than she could have thought **.** In a fortress full of elves, the important person requesting an audience with the god of rebellion turned out to be a human. The woman was old, and her hair had been modelled to resemble the horns of a dragon, but there was also something far stranger about her – something ancient and strong. Fen’lath frowned when stories of the Dalish rose her mind.

_She with many years…_

 

“Asha’bellanar?”

 

Fen’Harel, who had been walking ahead of his lover, stopped to glance over his shoulder. The woman standing behind the table, however, didn’t show any sign of surprise **.**

“Well, well. What have we here?” she mused as she focused her golden gaze on the hanal’ghilan. “One of the people, yet so different. A drop of foreign blood.”

The situation gave Fen’lath the chills. Not even her grandmother knew who Asha’bellanar truly was. Now that she met her eye to eye, she got the distinct feeling that there was more to the character than the Dalish believed.

“I told you you’d want to meet her”, Fen’Harel chuckled at her surprise and smiled.

“I… Yes”, she worked to gather herself together. “But why…?”

“After falling in love with a god, _I_ still seem strange to you?” the sound of the woman’s raspy voice interrupted her.

_How does she know so much?_  

Fen’lath’s natural curiosity challenged her uncertainty and wrestled with it until it had the upper hand. It was time to focus on the moment instead of speculation **.** The red-haired hanal’ghilan cocked her head and inspected the witch with her gaze.

“The Dalish have stories about you”, she told her.

“Really? And what do they say?”   

“That the elves can always seek your aid. That, however, is known to risky because you’re capricious and may also kill the ones asking for help **.** You’re also much older than any other human, immortal even.”

“’Capricious’?” the woman repeated in amusement. “That’s one of the polite ways to say it. Rest assured, however, that those who have died by my hands have deserved it. As for the immortal part, I’ve had some help **.** Tell me, child, who do think could have aided me so?”

To that question, Fen’lath had no answer.

“I don’t know”, she confessed truthfully.

“An honest one on top of all. After all these countless years, you’ve managed to make quite the find, my old friend.”

Fen’Harel chuckled at the notion.

“I know”, he replied with self-satisfaction. “That’s not one of the things I need to confirm by hearing them from the Protector.”

_“Protector”? … **Mythal.**_

 

The downright clue hit its mark. Fen’lath’s demeanour turned tense, and she stared blankly at the back wall.  It was clear that she had figured out the answer.  

“That’s not a proper way to solve a riddle”, the witch scolded the god of rebellion **.**

“It was you who wanted to play the game, my friend”, Fen’Harel reminded her with a smirk. “I merely gave it a gentle nudge.”

He earned a hearty laugh as a reply.

“Oh, you haven’t changed. You were always the one unwilling to dance to anyone’s tune.”

“The tune of the Evanuris was a bit flawed, wasn’t it?”

“What does that make us, then?”

Fen’Harel lifted his chin and smiled cunningly.

“The ones who change it and turn it into a song.”

 

As the meeting progressed, its nature eventually turned into a more serious one. Apparently, the Grand Cathedral of Val Royeaux had been infiltrated before the beginning of the morning mass. Led by the Dread Wolf himself, a group of mages had kidnapped the Divine and taken her to the Temple of Mythal which was hidden somewhere in the Arbor Wilds. That’s why Fen’lath hadn’t found her lover after waking up. Furthermore, that was also the reason why Felassan had arrived at Tarasylan Te’las. He had escorted the Alienage’s inhabitants safely out of the city **.** Those willing to join the elven army had followed their guide into the mountains while the rest had left to seek their families from other cities. Those who had volunteered to stay with Briala still sited at the Royal Palace despite the risks. Whether the Empress’ advisor’s influence would be enough to keep them safe remained to be seen **,** but what had been done would certainly change the course of the war. The question was, to what end?

 

While the two elven deities continued their discussion about how the war might proceed, Fen’lath’s attention turned towards Thedas’ map **.** Her pensive, forest green eyes were fixed at the marker placed on Val Royeaux. The grand capital was in turmoil, no doubt of that, but what about the elves remaining in the palace? Had the guards arrested them? How was the Inquisition going to react? With all those questions circling in her mind, Fen’lath failed to notice the moment when the war room turned completely silent **.** Two pairs of golden eyes were observing her. One with loving mischief, the other with curiosity. 

“You look troubled, child”, Mythal noted suddenly. “Do you disagree with the plan?”

The hanal’ghilan flinched when she realised that the question was meant for her **.** She was wordless at first. She had attended the war council, yes, but this situation differed from it with its major unexpected turn **.** Not even the Hanal’ghilanis knew the truth about Mythal’s fate save for the fact she had vanished before the Veil was created. Remembering that, Fen’lath raised her gaze cautiously up again.

“It’s not my place to argue”, she replied with a respectful nod.

“You’re too quick to bow your head, young wolf-blood”, Mythal remarked. “If your opinion wasn’t of any value, why would you have been brought here in the first place?”

                      Despite the truth and reason in the Protector’s words, hesitation refused to leave the young hanal’ghilan alone **.** The right corner of her mouth twitched slightly, and she sought encouragement from the presence of her soulmate. She could almost hear his voice inside her head.

_You’ve got nothing to fear. Go ahead, answer._

That was enough to get Fen’lath to speak her mind. 

“I’ve got no objections”, she stated and let her gaze wander to the map again. “I’m just worried about the safety of my kin, of my clan… Of all the elves in Orlais and Ferelden.”

“There’s no reason to fear, ma da’fen”, the Dread Wolf soothed her. “Those who wish to join us are welcome. All that is needed is a messenger.”

_If it only were that easy._

“My clan believes strongly in the false stories about the fall of Elvhenan”, Fen’lath replied with regret. “I doubt that they’d be willing to come here.”

“Then convince them **.** Make omissions if you have to”, Mythal advised her. “Those who trust you will follow you. They’ll come to terms with the truth in time.”

 

With a gnawing feeling of doubt in her mind, Fen’lath weighed her options even if there weren’t many of them left. The Wolf had already made his move, and it was up to the Inquisition what was to come next. Would they leave their base to save the Divine, or would they continue to fight and leave her to her fate? The answer mattered little, though, when it came to what Fen’lath had to do next. She wasn’t one of the Dalish by blood, but the members of Clan Lavellan were part of her family as much as her grandmother was. It was uncertain whether they would hear her out or not, but she had to try.


End file.
